


Ouroboros

by elegantmoonchild



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, F/F, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Gun Violence, Hate to Love, M/M, Porn With Plot, Serpents vs. Ghoulies, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, talk of abuse, vulgarity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-10 11:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 85,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12911022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantmoonchild/pseuds/elegantmoonchild
Summary: After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous.





	1. THE VIOLENT CHAIN

**Author's Note:**

> So Act One is finally here! There have been several hours poured into this fic and I really hope you enjoy the journey. I have a couple of things to address before we begin on this rough and tumble road ahead filled with gang violence, romance, and motorcycle angst.
> 
> Point One: If you’ve heeded my warnings and are still here, welcome! I hope you enjoy this fic. I’ve poured a lot of time and research into this and I hope it pays off and is entertaining for you all. If any of the terminology I’ve used is incorrect, please feel free to send me a PM on tumblr (elegantmoonchild). I’m open to _constructive_ criticism and definitely open for discussion or correction if my research has led me astray.
> 
> Point Two: I took a little creative license with Archie and Joaquin’s characters, sort of blending them together. There will be elements of both and I decided to nix Archie’s actual stand-alone character from this fic. Which leads to my next point…
> 
> Point Three: Is anyone else as excited as I am about a Veronica and Sweet Pea pairing? It definitely wasn’t something I initially thought could work, but the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to write it. I hope I do this concept justice and maybe we can make some waves. I’m a purest for the Riverdale ships and typically go full Varchie where Veronica is concerned, but I thought this might be a fun idea to play with.
> 
> Point Four: There will be sex scenes with most of the couples, not just Bughead. Though Betty and Jughead’s relationship is the central pairing in this story – the main focus – I wanted to highlight some smutty and fluffy moments with all of the ships I’ve outlined for this fic.
> 
> Point Five: I have some inspo songs and songs specifically for scenes that I will list at the bottom of each chapter. I will notate which scene they belong to if you want you refer to that during your reading. May make your experience a bit more exciting, may not. You do you, beautiful! A special thank you to all of you who gave me some wonderful song inspo recs. I may not have listed all of them, but I listened to them all and really enjoyed them and listened to them as I wrote.  
> A giant thanks to @youbuildmeupbeliever for all of the love and support for this fic!!! She is wonderful and if you are on tumblr, you should go and follow her. Not only is she a kind human being, but she has some amazing recs for other fics for those interested in reading other quality fics from the fandom.Okay, here’s Act One. There isn’t as much violence in this chapter. This act is purely exposition, setting us up for the rest of the plot, so if it seems tame for now, please understand it may get saucier in future chapters.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

_Ouroboros, a symbol revered by cultures and religions spanning the expanse of the old world and new, depicts the ever-powerful serpent eating its own tail. Its meaning – a symbol of resurrection, the cycle of life and death, the marriage of black and white._

_The serpent itself is made of half light, half darkness, much like the symbol of Yin and Yang, and it expresses the duality of nature and the harmony of opposites._

_The ouroboros manifests the theory that “one is all,” that creation can occur out of destruction, life can derive from death._

 _The serpent can be continually reborn as it sheds its skin, only to continue the cycle and find birth out of its past into the present as it chases the future._

\----------------------------------------------------------------

**Scene One**

A loud crash. A distant bang. A flash of fire. Suddenly, there are red and orange and yellow licks of heat spreading wildly across the sky like a sinful lover’s kiss across the flesh of the damned. 

There are shouts and screams all about, a neighborhood once empty with silence now filled with the echoing cries of pain and suffering. Pieces of heavy plastic and metal fly through the air wildly, littering the sidewalk and concrete of the neighborhood road. Clouds of white hot heat that quickly turn black and yellow billow and continue their slow ascent to the sky. Sparks shoot out and for the briefest of moments, amongst the spray of flames and car parts, Betty can make out the charred figure of her father trapped behind the wheel of the car that had just combusted. 

Betty cowered low into the clenched thighs of her mother, the vibrations of her screams shaking against her daughter’s grip as Betty fought to cling for dear life. 

“Hal!” Alice Cooper cried out, holding back with every ounce of her strength from fleeing to the car to free her husband from his fiery grave. She could feel the tiny hands of her daughters Betty and Polly glued to her side and she pivoted around quickly, pulling them in away from the scene of their father, lying motionless. 

The simple, every day tradition of greeting their dad when he returned from home had turned into a nightmare with the explosion of his ’93 Cadillac. 

In a slivered gap between Alice’s legs, Betty peered out with curiosity at the scene, somehow drawn to the fire and heat and violence. Beyond the smog and through the flames, Betty could make out a group of motorcycles, lined up in a three-point formation. The person at the very front stood off of his bike and removed his helmet, which was covered in thick scarlet spikes. He stepped forward and lit a cigarette, his hair nearly the same red-orange hue as the flames that separated them from her. Betty watched as he surveyed the bonfire of metal and she could make out a mild smirk that inched its way up his lips. He took a long drag from his cigarette and, as if adding insult to injury, he flicked the smoldering butt toward the fire. When he turned around, there was an emblem on the back of his jacket – a contorted face with a long tongue stuck out in defiance, the word “GHOULIES” written in a patch right above. The man climbed back on the bike, turned the motor, and directed the formation of men hooded in helmets back around, departing the neighborhood almost as soon as they had arrived. 

Betty and her sister were quickly forced into the mini-van belonging to a neighbor, a sweet elderly woman willing to offer a means of escape for the remaining Cooper family. Though Alice said nothing, Betty could feel the fear coming off of her mother in waves. Though too young to understand the full details of what had just happened, Betty could tell they were in some sort of distress. 

Her mother wove in and out of traffic, a quickness lingering in her eyes as they darted left and right, watching for any signs of danger. After what felt like several harrowing minutes in the backseat of the mini-van, they pulled up outside of an old building, brick and mortar with a faded sign that said “Whyte Wyrm” on the top canvas awning. Alice rushed them out of the car just as three men came barreling out of the front door. 

One of the men shot forward and caught Alice in a heavy embrace, his hand coming up to grip the back of her head. Betty could hear the sobs begin to escape from her mother’s lips. The leather jacket draped over the man’s torso had Betty’s haunches riding up, fear creeping in of the men she had seen on bikes by her front lawn, however when he turned and there was a large snake instead of a distorted face, she felt her body depress and relax. 

These men must be different. 

Alice broke free from the man’s embrace and gestured for Betty and Polly to enter the building with her and the men. 

Inside, Betty could tell enough from scenes of movies she had watched that this was a bar. There were shelves lining the back walls with bottles of different colored liquids and there were streamers across a wide wooden barrier with neon lights. The bar looked fairly vacant for the large expanse of space around them. The ceilings were high and there was a staircase to the left that led to a higher platform, unseen from her low line of sight. 

Beside her, Polly was shaking, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. Betty reached out and grabbed her sister’s hand for comfort. 

“What the Hell happened, Alice?” bellowed the man that Betty’s mother had been hugging. His hands were gripping his hips and concern was etched all over his face. Betty could see her mother’s body tense up. 

“It’s Hal. He –“ Alice stopped abruptly, her eyes drawn toward her two daughters that cowered behind her. Alice mentally edited her words and continued, “He was attacked. He’s… his car just ignited.” Her eyes returned to the man in front of her. “I’m so sorry, FP. I didn’t know where else to turn.” 

FP ran his hands over his tired face and sighed. “It’s okay, Alice. You’re always welcome here, no matter the circumstances. The past is the past. You’ll always be one of us if you need to be.” He paced around, his eyes drawn to the cold tile floor as he was working to piece together her information. 

“Who could have done this?” he asked, but before Alice could reply, the soft voice of Betty Cooper filled the room. 

“It was the bad man with the weird face on his back. He was on a motorcycle.” 

Alice Cooper looked at Betty in horror, afraid of what her daughter had seen and even more worried that her daughter had _been_ seen. FP stared down at Betty, as if taking her presence in for the first time since they had arrived. 

“The Ghoulies,” spat out one of the other men as he cracked the knuckles of one fist with the other. 

FP nodded to the man before turning back to Alice. “Was Hal associated with the Ghoulies?” 

Betty had no idea who these “Ghoulies” were, but clearly her mother did and Alice replied without a beat, “Hal had been doing some business with Blossom, but I didn’t think it had turned this sour.” Tears began to draw up to Alice’s eyelids, threatening to spill. 

“Daddy?” a soft voice cried out from the top of the stairs. A small boy, wearing a crown-shaped beanie and a royal blue pajama set, stood clutching a thin blanket as gray as the hat on his head. His eyes were sleepy, but alert as they darted from person to person. 

“It’s okay, Jughead,” FP called out to him, making a sweeping gesture with his hand for the boy to join them. “I want you to come down here for a second.” 

The boy looked hesitant, but shuffled carefully down the steps and toward the group. He came up behind FP’s legs and leaned against them, peering out at Betty from behind one. 

She could tell that his eyes were a startling shade of blue and she watched him, rife with curiosity and nerves. 

FP crouched down, putting his arm around his tiny son and tilting his head toward the two girls. “Jughead, this is Betty and Polly. Betty’s six years old, just like you. Why don’t you go on up, show them your room? Make them comfortable for bedtime, okay?” FPs eyes traveled back up to Alice’s and he watched as she nodded. “I need to talk to their mommy for a little bit.” 

The boy, Jughead, seemed apprehensive initially, but eventually he caved and began to shuffle back toward the staircase, holding his hand out for Betty to take. Betty grabbed hold, her other hand still clutching onto Polly’s, and the three of them formed a chain as they traveled up the staircase. Betty looked back at her mother, nervous and truly scared for the first time, but the gentle warmth of Jughead’s palm against her own soothed out the edges of fear. Alice continued to smile at her daughters until they disappeared around the corner of the upstairs platform. 

It led to a small hall with two doorways. Jughead directed them to the one on the right, the door still ajar. The lights were dim, shadows cast amongst the pastel blue walls from a single nightlight that rotated shapes under a plastic dome. There were toys littered about, surrounding the edge of a bed covered in white cotton sheets with cowboys painted over them. 

When they entered, Jughead released Betty’s hand and she felt the sudden urge to flee and return to the security of her mother’s arms. He turned to her, though, and offered his blanket, a token of protection as he mumbled, “I always wear this when I feel scared. You can use it for now if you want.” He looked over at Polly, still shaking now as a few tears had slipped down her cheeks, covered in soot from the fire. “You can use it too.” 

Betty felt a lump form in her throat as her own urge to cry began to build. She nodded and swallowed back her feelings. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, taking the blanket from his outstretched hand. 

She watched as Jughead climbed back into his bed. She was unsure of what to do, but when he pulled back the comforter for her and Polly to fit under, she hoisted herself onto the bed and crawled beneath the covers. 

As they settled in the silence, Betty could hear the build-up of Polly’s sobs until she was weeping fully into the pillow they shared. Betty’s body tensed up and she could feel the hot sensation of tears finally break free and seep from the corners of her own eyes down into the sheets below. 

Here she was, alone with her sister in a foreign place, the distant sounds of her mother’s fearful voice like a haunting in her ears as the fiery scene of her father’s death clung behind the screen of her eyelids like a horror movie. 

She felt her body crumple inward, the whimpering of Polly’s weeping beside her driving her to further tears. Suddenly, she felt the grip of a hand against her right palm. Her first inclination to be surprised had her body clenching tight before she eventually relaxed, comforted by this simple gesture of the boy beside her. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I get scared too.” 

And with his words, she allowed herself to weep softly, small gasps of air escaping her lips before she finally lulled herself to sleep through the soft cascade of her tears. 

///////

**Scene Two**

“Come on, chicken shit. Just jump in!” 

A lanky pale teen with soft black hair tightened his grip on the thick hemp rope, surveying the ground beneath and the pool of water that seemed both inviting and menacing. His skin, dry and warm from the early afternoon summer sun, began to erupt in small goosebumps as the adrenaline started to pump through his system. Across the stream and on the bank, straddling a broad trunk of timber like a noble in nature, Jughead Jones was watching with that playful gleam in his eye that signaled challenge. 

Joaquin DeSantos looked back down at the pool of water and closed his eyes. It seemed silly to be afraid of a little water, to be afraid of the promise of a cool stream enveloping his warm skin like a passionate summer kiss. He knew if he didn’t jump soon, his best friend was going to start filing away this moment for future teasing. 

And once Jughead latched onto something it was rare for him to let it go. 

“We don’t have all fucking, summer, Quin.” Jughead threw his hands up with exasperation. The swear word from his 13 year old mouth felt bold and powerful, an initiation from child to teenager. He reached out to wipe the beads that turned from creek water to sweat on his brow, the heat of another Southside summer day nearly suffocating in their little piece of nirvana at Sweetwater River. He thought about sliding off of his perch and into the cool water below, but wanted to give Joaquin a few more seconds to make the jump from the rope swing on the large oak tree on the opposite bank. 

“My patience is growing thin, dude,” he muttered, the heat turning him grumpier by the second. 

“Fuck, fine!” Joaquin shouted, his eyes flying open. Despite his curse, there was a smile forming on his lips. “Anything for our prince,” he quipped, knowing the regal term always pissed his friend off. The accompanying joke about Jughead’s legacy in the Serpents always caused him to blush and grimace, his modesty overwhelming his ability to take a joke. 

Without waiting for Jughead’s inevitable insulting reply, Joaquin opened his mouth and let out a boyish scream as his feet launched off of the towering tree branch and his arms released their grip from the thick strand of rope, sending his body down into the murky, watery depths below. Joaquin managed to curl his limbs inward before he came crashing through the surface, the sudden sensation of cold enveloping his sun-kissed skin. 

Almost as soon as he had vanished beneath the water, he reappeared, shaking the droplets of water out of his shaggy black hair. 

“Thatta boy!” Jughead called out, his mouth cracked out in a wide smile. “I never thought you’d man up.” 

Joaquin sent a wave of creek water toward Jughead and the tree stump, laughter light on his lips. “Whatever. We both know I’ve got the bigger dick here, Jones.” 

Jughead launched himself off of the trunk and landed in the water a few feet from Joaquin. The two boys waded around, inappropriate slander and filth on their tongues as they exchanged playful insults and splashes. Lost in their own amusement, it took at least three minutes before they realized they were no longer alone. 

“You two done flirting or can I show you both how it’s done on the rope swing?” 

Jughead and Joaquin ceased their splashing and whipped around at the sound of the feminine tease behind them on the riverbank. There stood a young Betty Cooper, decked out in a two-piece yellow bikini with pink polka dots, her golden hair tied up behind a red bandana. 

She started to slip out of her sandals, anxious to feel the cool rush of the moving stream on her exposed flesh. Summertime was always Betty’s favorite time of the year. The long active days spent under the heavy sun meant no school and more time to work on her tan. Sure, Betty genuinely enjoyed learning, and her mother did as well of a job as could be expected of a single mother to get her to every school function she could possibly sign up for. Alice Cooper stressed the importance of “looking ahead,” and Betty knew that meant participating in as many organizations as she could fit on a college application, even at the young age of 13. Betty would be anything but unprepared. 

However, when the school year was done, and Betty had ample loads of free time to wander through the creek beds and wooded areas of the Southside, that’s where she found true delight. Her two best friends, Joaquin and Jughead, and often times her sister Polly, would gather just after lunch and invest in some new activity for the day. Sometimes they would bike around town, ending their afternoon with milkshakes at the local diner. Other times they would break into the old baseball field near the outskirts of Riverdale to play a competitive game of kickball. 

Most often, though, they found themselves perched along the sand and shores of Sweetwater River, their concealed beach near a narrow creek bed a hideout from the drama that sometimes took place during the day at the Whyte Wyrm. 

Betty stepped forward, sinking her toes into the sand bank damp from the creek. Truthfully, she was glad to have a hideaway from the bar. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy living there. For the past six years, the Cooper girls and their mother have taken up residence in two of the five backrooms on the first floor of the bar. Alice Cooper had once made a series of promises that the three of them would find their own apartment soon, something she could afford on a single salary, but after the years carried on and the promises became fewer and fewer, Betty realized she would be stuck at the Wyrm until she became of age. 

Betty knew secretly that Alice had liked living around people she trusted. The trauma of her father’s death had shaken her mother more than the matriarch would ever openly admit, and for the first time in her adult life it seemed Alice had happily given in to being dependent on the assistance and constant company of others. 

The Serpents had become a sort of family for the threesome, and a safe harbor for those seeking shelter. FP and his wife Gladys ran the business at the bar, and Betty knew enough of whisperings to recognize that FP ran the dealings of the biker gang as well. Though Betty didn’t know exactly what kind of business they dabbled in, she could piece together by the presence of closed doors and harsh whispers that it wasn’t knowledge easily spread, especially to the underage minors living at the bar. There used to be two older men that lived there as well, one named Mustang and another named Tall Boy, who also had a son Ricky that he had custody of on most weekends. Mustang eventually moved on from the Wyrm, choosing to branch out on his own. Tall Boy still took up residence in one of the rooms, but was seldom seen as he often had family matters to address. 

Joaquin came to the Wyrm when Betty was seven, not long after she had moved in. His older brother, Jose, had been a Serpent and was granted guardianship of his younger brother when their parents had passed. Whenever Jose had turned 18, however, he made it known he had plans to regroup on the West Coast with old relatives. FP offered to keep a watchful eye over Joaquin at the bar, and the youngest DeSantos boy decided to stay behind. 

Betty and Joaquin had grown close over the years. When they were kids, they had practiced kissing on each other and she had been the first person he had confided in earlier this summer when he had realized he always had more of a sexual and romantic interest in boys rather than girls – a fact that Betty knew he still kept concealed from Jughead. Though their friend had never been one to pass judgment, Betty understood Joaquin’s hesitation and his worry that it might change the dynamic of their teenage male-to-male friendship. 

Jughead watched as she inched her way into the creek to join them, her hands gliding across the surface, palms down to caress the cool water. 

“I thought you were going to whoop our asses on the rope swing, Coop.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him, sending a heavy flick of water his way. “Shut it, Jones. I’m getting used to the water first.” 

He splashed around, sending pellets of cold spray her way. She batted at the water defensively, but giggled, and Jughead felt excitement and something just short of nerves rise in his stomach. 

“You about done?” he asked, laughing at the way she tossed about in the creek. 

“You’re such an ass, Jones!” she shouted, sending daggers through her eyes, but there was still a gleam of mischief mixed in, and Jughead sensed retaliation. He usually had a knack for staying a step ahead of an opponent, even one as platonic as Betty. 

He watched as she dove beneath the surface, barely causing a ripple. He always admired how graceful she moved in water, though he could never quite get her to commit to a swim club. She always said she had too much on her plate to add in an extra recreation. 

He turned to Joaquin, who simply shrugged his shoulders and chuckled, but before Jughead could reply he felt a keen tug around his ankles, and he tumbled over into the creek, his arms wailing around in an attempt to regain balance. 

The splash he made was great, and Joaquin tried to dodge the impending wave. Betty popped up a few feet to his right and they exchanged laughs just as Jughead resurfaced. His hair, midnight black and unruly, was soaked and thick tendrils fell just above his line of sight, dripping. 

For a brief moment, Betty mentally applauded the way he looked, flustered from the shock of her underwater prank. During their childhood years, the two friends had seen each other in various states of emotion, some good and some bad. They had grown close, learning to lean on each other when they felt their parents lacked the ability to understand childhood minds. They would share beds, share toys, and sometimes Betty stole his clothes when they partook in a particularly messy outdoor activity. There was a foundation there that was purely friendly and innocent. 

However, as they had begun to make the awkward transition from harmless kids to curious teenagers, Betty couldn’t ignore the changes that had begun to take shape in the form of her best friend, and she couldn’t deny the strange new ways they made her feel. Jughead’s chest glistened with beads of water, streaming down toward the direction of his hips, led by a curly-haired path that began somewhere below his navel and disappeared just beneath the water’s edge. His skin had become more olive and it had managed to bring out the deep cerulean blue in his eyes. Though he was never one for athletic sport, somehow Jughead had managed to fill out the once bony structure of his arms and legs, the curves of muscle evident whenever he flexed. 

The entire sight had Betty nibbling on her bottom lip. 

She felt the harsh wave of water crash into her side and turned to see Joaquin, a knowing grin spread all over his face. Betty had the decency to blush, but managed to get out of an awkward confrontation as Jughead began to wade as quickly as he could through the stream in her direction. She shrieked playfully and did her best to run as well, the density of the water a mild hindrance. 

Though Betty was normally fairly fast, Jughead had the advantage since he had a running start and he managed to wrap his arms around her tiny waist, eliciting a high-pitched scream that was quickly muffled when Betty was shoved sideways underwater. 

She floundered about, trying to gain her balance, the angle of her descent making that more difficult than normal. Once she finally reoriented herself, planting her feet firmly against the soft claylike texture of the creek bed, she swiveled about to find Jughead standing next to Joaquin, hands on his hips and a smug expression on his face. 

Betty, always an intellectual strategist, smiled back and the look on Jughead’s face faltered. He could sense this wasn’t over. Betty didn’t usually give up easily without a fight. 

She leaned in to her right side, half of her face disappearing under the surface of the water, her eyes closed in concentration as she dug into the ground to grab a handful of creek bed. Careful to keep her weapon concealed under the water, she slowly righted herself and sauntered through the stream toward Jughead. 

Instinct told him to flee, the smile on her face a little more than off putting, but he could only stop and stare as she approached. She looked like a sailor’s siren, the rivets of water soaked into her hair giving the strands a glittery effect. It had seemed that overnight Betty had blossomed into a girl with breasts that were firm and visually obvious and legs that shot up toward the sky. Even her skin seemed smoother, her hair shinier and more honey gold than the summer before. The green of her eyes was illuminated by the sparkle of the creek and the color of the murky water submerging them. 

Jughead found himself gulping down the saliva that had built up in his mouth as he watched her. They had always been friends, always been close, but the older they grew the more obvious their physical differences became. Jughead had always considered himself a protector of the youngest Cooper girl. They were about the same age, him with a couple extra months on her, but since the night she and her family sought refuge within the walls of the Whyte Wyrm, Jughead knew their bond would be something special. She had looked so lost that night, clutching onto her sister with those wide eyes scanning everything and everyone around her. She had always been so observant. It was one of those things that had always fascinated him about her. 

But now it was his turn to be observant, taking in every little measure of her body that had morphed and reshaped into the blossoming form of a young woman. There was a bit of shame spreading through his bones, thinking of his long-term friend that he used to run innocently through the sprinklers with as this ethereal sex goddess gliding through the ripples of the creek toward him. He was still too new to puberty to know exactly how to keep his body in check, but as she approached him, that gleam of mischief in her eyes, he had to whisper words like “dead fish,” “rotten eggs,” and “dog breath” to keep himself from creating an embarrassing show of his teenage body. 

He was too distracted by his boner-preventing technique to dodge her as Betty launched her fist forward, a handful of sticky, goopy creek mud flying onto his chest in a cold sploosh. Her palm smacked hard against his skin, smearing the mud down the surface as her fingers traced down to his belly button. 

_That’s not fucking helping,_ he thought. 

Jughead wasn’t the only one to blush though, and Betty’s face became more and more pink as she giggled and continued to draw patterns on his chest with the mud. 

“Nice chest,” she teased as the mud quickly began to dry under the beat of the sun. He grabbed her wrist and tried to aim her fingers toward her face. 

“Here, have some, Cooper. You can look just as pretty as me!” 

She tried to wriggle out of his grip as his other hand shot out to tickle her waist, trying to attack her from both sides. They both laughed, her eyes scrunched up to avoid the mud on her fingers as he brought her hand closer and closer to her face. 

“I can fuck off if you guys want some privacy,” they heard. 

They broke free from their wrestling match and turned to face Joaquin, who had somehow found himself perched on the trunk during their tussle, his face playful and teasing. 

Jughead dropped his grip from Betty’s wrist and scooped up a handful of shimmering stream to launch at Joaquin. “No way! And let go of the weakest wimp here to fuck with? Dream on!” 

Jughead ran toward Joaquin and the two boys tangled their arms together as Jughead tried to wrestle Joaquin off of the stump. Betty washed her hands off in the creek as she watched them, laughter light on her lips and in her eyes. 

It was moments like this that made their summers so special. 

The sound of soft bicycle tires on gravel interrupted their play. A dark-haired girl, about five years old, came pedaling down the dirt hill that led to the creek. She stopped just short of the shore and shoved her kickstand down with her sandaled feet, bringing her leg over the seat to dismount. 

“Hey Jug! Mom said I could come down and swim with you guys.” The girl began to kick off her shoes and peel her green sundress over her head, revealing a purple one-piece with little white skulls on the bodice. She tossed the garment onto the grassy bank and ran straight into the stream, splashing about with little hesitation. 

Betty giggled, trying to dodge the droplets of creek that went flying. 

“Jellybean!” Jughead called as the girl resurfaced, her hair soaking wet and clinging to the side of her face. “Where’s Hot Dog?” 

Right on cue, a loud bark echoed through the trees and a large shaggy white sheep dog appeared, barreling down the gravel path before galloping right into the creek, his large paws paddling over toward Jellybean with his beefy pink tongue hanging out. As the little girl and dog waded around, both panting like maniacs, their hair drenched and clingy, Betty thought they looked like twins. 

For the rest of the afternoon, the three teens and Jellybean continued their aquatic play, cut short just before six when Polly showed up to call them back to the bar for supper. They gathered their clothes and shoes, Betty and Jughead sneaking peeks at the other while undetected by Joaquin, and the foursome mounted their bikes and pedaled home, Hot Dog hot on their trail. 

After supper, the nourishing meal of grilled burgers, potato salad, and fresh cut watermelon, Alice demanded Betty shower off the stench of the creek before bed. While inside under the cool spray of the shower head, Betty brought a hand up to one of her newly formed breasts and cradled it in her palm. The new sensations she felt in various parts of her body made her feel electric, wild and new and strange. She wondered what it would feel like to pinch the heavier colored bit of flesh that had perked up under the water, and when she went exploring with her fingers, an image of Jughead and his firm glistening chest came to mind. 

She moaned softly, the touch of her fingers on her breast and the thought of her best friend half naked in the creek causing her to feel sparks. A sudden flush of heat began to pool between her legs and she quickly removed her hands from her chest, shame causing her to blush and panic. 

All of these thoughts and feelings were far too fresh and scary. 

That night, after her shower and her mother had tucked her and her sister into their beds, Betty snuck out of their room and climbed the stairs to the second level. She tiptoed to Jughead’s door and creaked it open softly, inching her way inside slowly. 

Jughead was already passed out under the covers, a full belly and the heat of the sun that afternoon zapping him of his energy. Betty peeled back the comforter and slid her body underneath, the thin fabric of her tank top riding up just barely above her navel. 

It was often that Betty found herself in Jughead’s bed. It had been their thing since they were kids, a comfort they found being near each other during sleep since that first night she had stayed there. It had never been more than innocent, with the occasional draping of Jughead’s arm discovered around her waist in the morning light when they awoke. Most often, it was Betty who was the big spoon, the feel of the older boy in her arms a way for her to take back the control that came from nurturing when she experienced anxiety. 

After her confusing moment in the shower, Betty longed to return to that place of innocence and familiarity. 

Jughead stirred lightly, grumbling “Betty?” with thick, sleepy breath. 

“Shh,” she whispered, her arm coming around to drape over his waist, the other coming in to curl near her chest between their bodies. 

Betty could already hear the return of Jughead’s snores and they quickly lulled her to sleep, the swift closing of her eyes pulling her down into a deep and comfortable slumber. 

///////

**Scene Three**

_Grr-vroom, grr-vroooom, grr-vrooooooom._

The motor roared to life in front of her, the shiny cold metal of the gas tank starting to warm as the engine began to rev. The handlebars glistened, freshly polished and decked out with a new grip on the clutch. The engine and exhaust pipes were blinding under the setting sun of the evening, flanked by the long denim-clad legs of a sixteen year old boy, modeled after James Dean with the slick-back style of his black hair and the thick crisp leather of his jacket. 

His eyes, blue and deep, trailed up the length of Betty’s exposed tan legs, creeping past the hem of her blue sundress, up the section of her bodice that was full and perky, to land on the pink of her full, pouty lips. 

_Goddamn, she looks beautiful,_ he thought. 

“What do think of my birthday gift, Coop?” he asked, gesturing to the brand new motorcycle underneath him that vibrated and shook with energy. There was excitement in his eyes and a smile that reached his temples. Betty always loved to see him so happy, especially after the traumatic past couple of years. These moments seemed few and far between. 

“The bike is beautiful, Juggie. Did FP really get this for you?” she inquired, her eyebrow drifting up quizzically. Her hands tugged at the bottom of her dress as the soft October breeze drifted around her, trying to maintain some of the Cooper modesty her mother had tried to enforce. 

Jughead nodded, running his gloved hands up and down the body, landing over the handlebars as he honked the horn lightly, eliciting a small laugh from Betty’s lips. 

“Hell yeah. Years watching my old man ride have finally paid off. I guess he had been saving a bit of money here and there for the past couple of years. I figured he was just going to give me the old Honda I had been practicing around with and repairing, but he rolled up this afternoon with this beauty.” His eyes fell lovingly over the bike, pride swelling in the deep blue. “Shit, Betts. This is probably the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen.” 

She chuckled lightly and put her hands on her hips. “Is that so, Jughead Jones? I’m starting to feel a little jealous.” 

He snickered, his eyes averting from the bike back to her. “Next to you, of course. Though hopefully this won’t be the most gorgeous thing I ride on my birthday.” His eyebrows wiggled and she blushed furiously, giggling as she slapped him on the bicep. 

“Shut it, Jones. You’ll be lucky to get a kiss with the way you keep staring at that bike.” 

His face grimaced and he pouted playfully, looking up at her with those big blue eyes she couldn’t resist. She sighed happily, her smirk spreading as she leaned in, pressing her chest against his upper arm, her face inches from his. 

“Kidding,” she continued. “Happy Birthday, baby.” And she pressed a soft kiss against his already puckered lips. 

Betty and Jughead had been _a thing_ for the past year, the exploration of their feelings for one another brought to a head last summer when Jughead had dared one starlit night to lean in and kiss Betty under the tall oak in the lot behind the Wyrm. They had done their best to keep the secret of their feelings hidden between the two of them, but Joaquin was always quick to catch on and soon the two teens were openly all over each other during their summer nights roaming around the Southside. 

Their exploration had soon journeyed beyond emotions and into a more physical zone, and every night that Betty dared to sneak into Jughead’s room, they had to work harder than ever to keep the muffled sounds of their make-out to a minimum. Unfortunately, FP and Alice soon got wind of their late-night rendezvous and Betty was forbidden to leave her room at night. Thus, their exploration had been cut short, spurred on only in those random moments when they were alone. 

Still without a vehicle of their own, they didn’t have much time after school to devote to the discovery of their anatomies as Alice was always right on time to pick them up, though occasionally Betty would convince Polly to take them to school. Those were the days when Betty and Jughead had the most time for physical play. 

It had never gone beyond playful touching, the soft caress of a breast here, the gentle stroke of a finger outside of her panties there. Whenever she felt emboldened, Betty would even reach down to palm the outside of Jughead’s jeans, feeling the firm press of his aching flesh against the zipper line. 

And then there was that one golden night when FP was out on club business and Alice had to make a late-night run to visit her sick mother. Betty and Jughead had met in the privacy of his bedroom, finding themselves quickly enthralled in heated play, their hands groping and grabbing like they had seconds left on earth. That was the night Jughead’s fingers found their way into the soft cotton of her sleep shorts, passed the elastic band of her panties, and deep inside the drenched center between her legs. Betty had her first orgasm that night, the light that sparked behind her eyelids dazzling and new. 

Before Betty had the chance to return the favor, she and Jughead were springing apart at the sound of Alice’s Camry pulling up into the gravel parking lot. 

But now the stakes had changed. Jughead, newly 16 with a license and a set of flashy wheels, had the keys to their freedom literally in the palm of his hands. Though Betty doubted Alice would be comforted at the thought of her daughter riding on the back of a motorcycle every day to school, the biker atmosphere of the bar had made her mother more trusting of the chrome and steel two-wheel variety. 

However, despite the excitement of feeling the wind through her hair, the clash of her body against Jughead’s over a vibrating force of power, Betty was a bit scared. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. FP had offered to give her rides when she was a kid, but at that point Alice wasn’t comfortable with risking the safety of her daughters, especially after their father’s untimely and violent death. 

Now that she was older, and had probably participated in far deadlier things with an impulsive Jughead and Joaquin, Betty had to ask what she was so afraid of. 

Jughead gave her a smile and leaned around to dig into the leather saddle bags that adorned the back half of the bike. “Here, I got you a gift.” 

She scoffed, her brow coming together in confusion. “Jug, it’s your birthday. Why did you get me a gift?” 

“It’s really for both of us,” he replied, sitting back up with his retrieved item. In his hands sat a matte black shell-shaped helmet, so new the sticker was still on it. He held it out for her to take. “Here. Hop on.” 

Betty studied the bike, her lips pursing in consideration. The leather seat behind him looked tempting, resting just above the dark charcoal gray of the fender. Though there was a part of her still worried about safety, the playful gleam in his eye and the shiver across her spine had her prioritizing their time alone over risk potential. 

She looked down at her dress again and tugged on the hem. “But Jug, I’m not really wearing anything proper for a motorcycle.” 

The gleam in his eyes grew wicked and one of his brows cocked up in response. “I think what you’re wearing is just fine.” His voice sounded husky and thick, and he quickly cleared his throat. “Just be careful not to touch the pipes or the engine with your bare legs and you should be good.” 

He brought his own helmet up to rest over the top of his hair. She wondered where his familiar gray beanie was, but found it tucked in his back pocket when she straddled the back seat and scooted closer to him. 

“You’ll need to make sure to hold on tight, too, baby,” he added, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

Betty secured the new helmet over her soft blonde waves, fastening the snaps shut and tightening the straps. Her arms came around to grip over his waist, just below his navel. Her dress was thin and she could feel the hardening of her nipples from their close proximity and the vibration of the motor under her legs. 

Between his hard body, the vibration of the bike, and the prospect of alone time, Betty had to try really hard not to get aroused. 

They took off, scooting out of the parking lot before the engine picked up and Jughead switched gears. They sped down the access road and off to a side street, thick with trees and privacy. Betty began to wonder where he was taking her, but the longer their journey drew on, the sooner she realized that he was taking her beyond Fox Forest and up to Crystal Point, an elevated landing looking over Sweetwater River. 

_Right,_ she smiled, _it’s his birthday._ Though not one to typically celebrate the annual anniversary of aging, Jughead had made it a point earlier in the week that for his birthday, he wanted to spend some alone time with her. She was the only person he really enjoyed cherishing that particular holiday with, usually with a movie at the local drive-in or burgers at the diner, but she suspected with this new opportunity for privacy they would celebrate with an entirely new activity. 

She shivered at the thought and her center between her legs grew damp with anticipation. 

As they whizzed past the tall trees and mossy road sides, Betty reflected back on the rough path it had been to even get Jughead to sixteen years. The last three, in particular, had been hectic, hurtful and damaging. 

The tension between his parents had begun to grow, fueled by the onset of FP’s continuous drinking and Gladys’s despair at being stuck in “shitty, old Southside.” FP excused away his behavior, blaming it on the casualties of running a successful bar and the stress of spearheading a gang of wild and rough bikers. Jughead’s mother tried to reason away her anger, but the smog between them had become too thick the spring after Jughead had turned fourteen, when the young life of his sister had been snuffed out by cancer. FP had fallen deeper into the drink, his sorrow drowned night after night in bottles upon bottles of dark amber whiskey, and Gladys had had enough. 

One night, when the rain and wind of a thunderstorm outside raged against the tin siding of the Whyte Wyrm roof, Gladys had gathered her belongings, shoving them inside a single rolling suitcase, and stormed out of the bar without looking back. 

Though Jughead rarely talked about how this had affected him, Betty knew internally he was crushed. One night when they were alone in his bed, her hands curled in the strands of his unruly jet black hair, she heard him say that he understood why she left, knew the reason she made him stay behind was because of his already deep connection to the club. Even as a young teen, Jughead had committed himself to the life of a greaser gang member, would openly confess that his destiny would be to ride alongside his father with the Serpents. 

Betty suspected this might be a ploy to diffuse the emotional hurt within him, his hardened exterior a shell for the pain he felt within. She never confronted him, however, and after time began to pass and she saw the way he fell in love with riding, she realized maybe he really meant what he had said about continuing the legacy of his father. 

The bike came to a stop, creeping off of the road and onto a soft patch of grass worn by previous tire tracks. Jughead put the kickstand down and turned the ignition, swiveling the bike handlebars to the side to angle the bike. He waited for Betty to dismount before he hoisted himself off of the machine. 

He came up behind her as she was removing her helmet and wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her body flush against him. 

“You smell good,” he muttered, snuggling her close. She giggled and wormed her way out of his grip. 

“Juggie, you still have your helmet on.” She swiveled around to face him, landing her hands up on the broad expanse of his shoulders. “I can’t kiss you when you have that thing on.” 

He chuckled, bringing his hands up to undo the helmet clasps. “You’re right. Safety first, though, Betts,” and he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively while removing the helmet. She laughed and he tossed the equipment to the side, his hands coming back up to cup her face. 

Their lips met in a soft clash, gentle like a wave on the shore, the chilly air of sundown surrounding them. Jughead could feel her shiver beneath his hands and he pulled away. 

“Shit, Betts. I’m sorry. I forgot a cold front was supposed to come in tonight.” He removed his jacket, slipping out of the sleeves before draping it over Betty’s shoulders. His fingers skimmed along the soft skin on her arm, trailing down to grab her hand. He laced their fingers together and offered a smile. 

“Better?” he asked, and she smiled and nodded back. She turned to look at the nature around them, the color palette filled with hues of green, brown, and blue. There were trees thick with leaves that were at the beginning stages of molt, their shades edging from green to yellow, then crisp dead brown. There was a single cliff, cut off by several waist-high wooden posts that formed a barrier between the landing and drastic drop below. The hedges leading to the cliff were still covered in pink buds and red round berries, the leftovers from the blooms of the previous spring and summer. 

Betty let go of Jughead’s hand and edged toward the cliff’s edge, twirling and closing her eyes in delight at the cold fresh air. “Jug, it’s so beautiful up here!” she exclaimed. “We haven’t been up here since we were kids, when your dad brought us up in the truck bed to watch the fireworks that one fourth of July.” She could remember the sparkles of red and gold and the feel of her warm body pressed against the side of her best friend as they shared a tub of gummy worms with Joaquin. 

It was amazing to think how much had changed in such a short period of time. That best friend she had laid so innocently against was now becoming the man that filled with her longing with every simple brush of his fingers against her skin. He had changed so much in her eyes but somehow was still the same person she had grown up with. 

As her spinning slowed and she turned to face him, the look in his eyes filled with equal parts love and lust, Betty felt a giddy sense of gratitude that she had been privy to both sides of Jughead Jones. 

He watched as the golden gleam of her hair trailed behind her in her spinning. The loose bottom of her dress flowed up and out as she twirled, matching the exhilaration that showed all over her face. He had to catch his breath, bracing himself against the back end of the bike. She was the most amazingly beautiful person he had ever seen. She looked like an angel, doused in red and orange hues of heavenly light under the setting of the evening sun. If he hadn’t known her sordid origin story, he might have assumed she had fallen from the skies themselves. 

The laughter on her lips filled him with warmth, coupled with the deep, throbbing ache in his loins. Though Jughead recognized teenage hormones and lust might be responsible for the definition of “love” in many of his peers, his bond with Betty was different. He knew her ins and outs, and she knew his. They found comfort and solace within one another, burying their dark wounds in the nook of each other’s arms. There were times he underestimated his self-worth, questioning how or why he deserved her in his life. She was always so giving, even despite the pain she held from her agonizing past, and there were times Jughead thought all he did was take. 

Watching her now, he felt the best way to show himself he deserved her, the best way he could prove on his 16th birthday that he was becoming the man she could be proud of, would be to put her first. 

She watched as he approached, his eyes darkened with what she recognized was longing and need. She stepped forward, matching his pace measure for measure, before their bodies clashed together. Her arms came up to cross behind his neck, and his forearm pressed against the small of her back, shoving her closer into him. 

Their lips tangled together, pressing and soothing and smashing, tongues tracing over lips and under jawlines. Betty let out a soft moan and his hand trailed down beneath her bottom and lifted her. She crossed her legs behind his hips, the hem of her dress riding up sinfully to nearly expose her panties between them. 

For a moment, they stood there, lips intertwined while her hand tangled in his soft midnight hair. They exchanged groans and whimpers as their teeth nipped and lips sucked. Jughead repositioned his arms, shoving her closer as he worked to support her with one arm. The other snaked around to trace along the smooth width of her thigh, creamy white and quivering from the cool air. His fingers traced along the lifted hem of her dress, coming to a stop just on the inside of her thigh. 

Betty broke free from their kiss to whimper into his ear. “Juggie…” she whined, her pout pushing him past the skin of her leg toward the thin barrier of her cotton panties. When he looked down, he could see they were pink and damp. His eyes shut softly, the thought of her soaking wet for him causing the tightness in his jeans to become damn near unbearable. He leaned forward and nibbled on her earlobe. 

“Betty, how do you get so wet so fast, baby?” He was answered with another moan, louder than the others with an accompanying buck of her hips against him. 

“I – I want you to touch me,” she whimpered, a plea on her lips. Though he had touched her insides once before, her inexperience still made her feel overexcited. She could remember the blinding stars from that night in his bedroom and craved to see them once again, to feel the long, thin roughness of his digits pumping within her silken walls. 

Jughead continued to kiss along the outline of her ear, trailing down to nibble on her jawline. He exhaled softly. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to hold you up like this and do that for long.” He brought his eyes up to survey the space, his eyes falling upon a tree in the near distance. 

“Alright, baby, just get creative with me, okay?” 

Betty nodded, though with the ecstasy she was feeling at the anticipation of his touch she would have agreed to anything. He travelled forward, holding her tight against him, careful not to drop her. He tried to press her softly against the tree trunk and she was grateful for the barrier of his leather jacket between her exposed shoulders and the rough tree bark. 

Once they were settled, one of Betty’s legs hoisted around his midsection, the other standing tip-toe on the soft mossy ground of the tree’s base, Jughead leaned in to kiss her roughly on the mouth. Their tongues mingled in their conjoined mouth, swirling around while they drank each other in. 

His hand shoved her dress back up, finding the elastic band of her panties quickly this time. Her moans and the painful sensation in his pants told him the time for teasing was long over, and one of them needed release soon. Just as he was about to dive beneath, he could feel Betty’s hand grip around his wrist. 

His eyes snapped up and he caught her staring at him, concern etched lightly between the lines of longing. “What about you, Jug? It’s your birthday. I should be making you feel good.” 

He smiled lightly, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Betts, there would be no better gift than to watch you fall apart by my hand. I know I’ve only seen it once, but it’s haunted my dreams ever since.” He leaned in to kiss her again. “You’re the most beautiful vision, Betty.” 

Her eyes sparkled with appreciation and she seemed to accept his explanation, easing the grip on his wrist before her hand fell away to come back up and finger at the base of his neck. He bent down to kiss along her neck, sucking lightly on her pulse point. His fingers continued their descent, pushing passed the band of her panties to trace the length of her slit, the slickness of her arousal woven in her blonde nest of curls. 

“More,” she whispered, her hips swaying into his hand. His index finger slipped through the entrance, the tip coated with her as he curled up inside, beckoning her within. She cried out, her grip around his neck tightening, causing his teeth to brush against the sensitive, tortured red spot he had been sucking. 

The last time they had done this, Jughead had used only one finger, pumping like a piston in and out of her until she clenched around him. Since that night, Jughead had done a little research, most teenage boys no stranger to pornography. He had learned to give ample attention to the clit, and he brought his thumb up to rub the sensitive nub of flesh he read would be somewhere near the top of her. He figured he had picked the right spot when Betty was wriggling beneath him, her moans growing in depth with each circle of his thumb. 

She was tight, but Jughead pondered what it might feel like to slip another finger inside her. He tried to push another in, the tip at the gate of her entrance looking for passage. As he inched forward, his eyes clenched together, the overwhelming tightness of her walls sending filthy thoughts straight to his brain. He could hear her moan, the slight hint of pain on the edge. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes opening to watch her. She was wincing, her top lip trapped between her teeth. 

“Yeah, it just – it hurts a little.” 

He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her lip free from her teeth. His second finger backed away. It wasn’t worth seeing her in pain. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Is that better?” he implored, his eyes searching for any remaining show of pain. She nodded her head, her green eyes glowing. 

“No, that feels really good,” and her breath hitched when he began to circle her clit again. It didn’t take long before he could feel her begin to tighten down even more on his index finger, and suddenly there was a thick stream of hot liquid creeping down his digit as Betty’s entire body shuddered, her breath labored. 

“Juggie,” she moaned, her body beginning to drift down from its high. Betty felt like her legs were on fire, the orgasm and fatigue of her position against the tree all-consuming. Slowly, he slipped his finger out of her, wiping the slick moisture on the front of his jeans. 

He lowered her dress as he leaned forward to press a kiss below her ear. “Best birthday gift, ever,” he whispered, eliciting a smile to creep across her cheeks. 

“It’s not over yet, Jones,” she replied and he could feel his cock twitch with excitement. 

Betty’s hand traced down from his neck over the expanse of his back, snaking around his hip to land on the front of his jeans. She began to finger the button, popping it open dramatically. He smirked, his eyes closing, willing himself to take it slow. 

She eased the zipper down, parting the entrance of his jeans with her thumb and index finger. She stared down, seeing the front of his bulge begin to poke out of his pants, covered with thin gray brief material. Betty paused, apprehension filling her, her nerves wriggling like angry worms in her belly. 

Jughead could sense her hesitation, his eyes opening to gaze into hers. “What’s going on, babe?” He asked. 

“I’m, um… I’m not sure what to do.” She leaned her forehead in to press to his. “We’ve never gotten this far before. I wanted to be so prepared for this. I wanted to make you feel good since you always go out of your way to make me feel _amazing_ and now I just feel lost.” She exhaled, frustrated. “Damnit, now the moment is ruined.” 

He chuckled softly and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her chin. “Betty, I’m not quite sure how else to say this, but if you look down you’ll be able to see the moment is definitely not ruined. I’m not expecting anything, babe. We’re both young, we’re both trying to figure this out. We are here together, and that’s what makes it feel good.” 

She smiled, despite her concerns, grateful for the consistent way he had of calming down her frazzled nerves. She let out a soft, low breath of air. “You’re right. You’re right, Juggie. We get to spend this moment together and that’s what’s special.” She pushed herself to continue, her fingers inching forward to smooth over his erection inside his jeans. 

He exhaled through pursed lips. He had never felt another hand on his dick before, especially not one belonging to a girl who drove him wild just by looking at her. “Fuck, Betts. That’s good, baby.” 

He knew he would need to keep encouraging her. Betty was known to strive for perfection, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had done less than drive him crazy. As much as the feel of her stroking him was a treat, the real gift was boosting her confidence. She always sparkled best that way. 

Betty continued to move up and down over the material of his briefs, the feel of his hard and fleshy cock in her fingers causing her to feel warm and wet again between her legs. She had never seen him close-up and the anticipation of what to expect was driving her anxiety back up. She could tell by soft moans that he was enjoying what she was doing, but she wanted more. 

“Juggie,” she whispered, catching his attention once again. His brow cocked up with inquiry. 

“Can you play with yourself in front of me? I want to watch. I want to know what to do. Show me what feels good.” The plea in her eyes was enough for him to agree. He nodded, his hand coming down from its brace against the tree to curl on the hem of his underwear. 

Betty averted her eyes south, watching as he gripped and pulled himself out of his briefs. Her eyes widened as she took the sight of him in. Though she was unfamiliar with what to expect size-wise, she had a feeling he met every standard, if not more. He was decently thick, enough of his hand wrapping around himself to make Betty blush. 

All she could think about was how much it was going to sting when he finally found himself inside her. 

She watched with curiosity, her teeth working on her bottom lip with soft nibbles, as he pumped himself up and down. A bead of moisture that had gathered at the tip caught her eye, but it was quickly swept away, used as lubricant while Jughead continued to piston inside his palm. 

When her eyes traveled back up to Jughead’s face, she could see he was watching her, his pupils dilated with lust. “It’s really hot to watch you watch me.” 

Betty blushed, biting her bottom lip again. He leaned down to catch her lip as her teeth released it, turning it into a desperate kiss. She could feel the movement of his arm as he leaned into her, and she was fully aroused again, itching to buck her hips against his exposed cock. 

“Juggie, I want to,” she demanded as her hand covered his. He let her guide him as she worked to stroke him, using his own palm. She wanted to go fast, driven by the excitement of the air between them. She picked up the pace and he followed, and eventually she shoved his hand to the side, choosing to jerk him off herself. He brought his hand back up to the tree to brace himself over her. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she could hear him whisper, and she knew he was getting close. 

“What do you want me to do?” she asked and he felt his heart take a leap. She was always so generous, and the thought of her giving him options while she worked him like a woman in power made him smile. 

“I – I’m about to come, baby.” 

“Here, Juggie. Take over for a second.” He reached down and gripped himself again, careful not to lose the perfect momentum she had set. 

Before he could figure out a target for his arousal, he watched as Betty hiked up the bottom of her dress again. He looked into her eyes, the pinkness in her cheeks and pouty lips driving him wild. 

“Right here,” she indicated, pointing to the damp spot on her panties. “It’s the closest we’re going to get for a while.” 

With her suggestion, his head fell back and he groaned into the open air. He began to blush, modest enough to be embarrassed as he explained, “Betts, I’m not sure how much there’s going to be. I don’t want to make a mess on your panties. We still have to drive home.” 

She leaned in to nibble on his ear lobe, her confidence building by his choice of words. “It’s okay. They’re already wet.” And he that’s when he lost it, shooting a silvery white drizzle from his tip onto the front of her panties, her ears echoing with the groaning sound of his climax. He pumped himself twice more before he slowed, his semi-hard cock resting against the warm skin of her stomach as he pressed his body against her in a firm kiss. 

“Betty… that was fucking amazing,” he muttered against her lips. He could feel the smug smile spread on her lips. 

“Happy Birthday, baby.” 

Jughead stepped back and tucked himself back into the confines of his jeans, working to re-zip and button up the denim. He watched as she leaned down, reaching under her dress to slip her panties down to the ground. She stepped out slowly with the fabric in her hands, standing back up to face him. 

She reached forward and tucked her panties in the front pocket of his jeans. “Here, your other birthday gift.” 

He chuckled, pulling her in close to him to plant a kiss on her forehead. He reached into the pocket of the leather jacket she still wore, his eyes glued to the tree behind them. He pulled out a folded up pocket knife, the gift from his dad last year, and he released Betty from his hold. He stepped up to the tree and unfolded the knife. 

“This will forever be our tree,” he explained, carving a heart and their initials through the bark and into the core of the tree trunk. When he finished, he turned to face Betty and found her eyes watery with tears. He cocked his head to the side, but she just laughed and began to wipe at her eyes. 

“You really mean a lot to me, Jughead. I know a lot has happened between us these past few years, but you know me better than anyone else.” She reached out and grabbed his wrist, bringing his hand up over her heart. “Now you have both the heart on the tree and the one in my chest. Forever.” 

He leaned in and kissed her softly, resting his forehead on hers. “Now, that is the best gift you could have given me. Let’s go home, Betts, before it gets too dark.” 

They took off in the night, cruising through the cool air as the stars began to come out, freedom at their backs and in the wind as they moved forward into the future. 

///////

**Scene Four**

The entire night could be described in one word: _Fireworks._

Betty watched from her fold-out chair in the back lot of the Whyte Wyrm, an iced sweet tea in one hand and a paper fan in the other. It was the Fourth of July, and a record-breaking scorcher as sweat collected just above her brow, a seasonal accessory to every summer outfit. 

Her newest best friend and transfer from out of state, mousy-haired 6’2” Kevin Keller, sat next to her, his keen eyes watching across the field as Joaquin tossed a football around with Jughead. His right knee was bouncing frantically, his bottom lip trapped in between his teeth. His shades were lowered and he looked like he was hungry for something other than the grilled BBQ chicken leftover from the club get together. 

“Are you sure he’s family, Betty?” 

Betty laughed, rolling her eyes as she turned to address him. “Yes, Kevin, for the fiftieth time Joaquin is most definitely gay.” 

There was a pout forming on his lips. “Hmm, maybe he’s just not into me. I mean, I’m not quite sure how he couldn’t be. I’m fabulous. But he has said, like, a minimum of three words to me today. Hi, Thanks, and Pass the ketchup, please.” He huffed. 

“That’s six words, Kev.” 

“I said it was a minimum.” Kevin removed his glasses completely, leaning in to deepen his stare, concerned that he had missed something. “I mean, he knows I’m gay, right? You did your wing-woman duties and explained I very much was into the D?” 

Betty laughed, kicking her feet up and slamming them back down to the ground in exasperated dramatics. “Yes, Kevin! I told you Joaquin’s not even completely out. I doubt he’s just going to go up to you and make a move. You’re going to have to do the work yourself, if you think he’s worth it.” 

Kevin pursed his lips together in thought. Joaquin was not his typical type, trading in the sweater sets for a white Henley and a leather jacket. He didn’t have much stock and was, most definitely, not a member of any sort of athletic team. His hair wasn’t tamed and his height was shorter, but whenever Joaquin flashed that wide, white smile at something he thought was funny, laughter always light on his lips, Kevin had to admit he was utterly dreamy. Plus, he had the whole angle of folksy guitar player, known for his skilled fingers across acoustic strings. 

Suddenly, Joaquin’s head turned from across the field, as if sensing an audience, and he flashed that bright smile once again in Kevin’s direction. _Hmm, maybe I’m wrong,_ he thought. 

He swirled around the contents of his tea, considering getting up for more ice. He watched as Jughead and Betty made eyes at each other, his friend practically drooling at the sight of the Serpent prince running back and forth across the grassy pasture. 

“You guys should just ghost on this party and go fuck.” 

Betty nearly choked on her tea, spitting it back out into her red plastic cup. “Kevin!” she exclaimed, a fair red blush spreading wildly across her cheeks. 

“What? Come on, Betty. Let your hair down, get wet.” And he wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. 

She laughed, setting her cup inside the chair’s built-in cup holder. “I don’t think that’s the issue, Kev. We never seem to get the time. We’ve either got school or he’s got work to do repairing his bike or someone else’s bike. Our parents are never gone, not completely, and we barely get time to make out as it is. We’ve been able to sneak away a few times, and of course we’ve gotten a bit handsy, but for something that special, for the first time – we want it to be done right.” 

“Well, as long as you’re getting _done,_ that’s all that matters.” 

She chuckled. “That’s the point.” She sighed, watching Jughead from afar. “I’m not as afraid as I thought I’d be. I trust Jughead and I know he trusts me. And he’s so gorgeous, and God, does he know what to do with his hands. I know it’ll be good. I’m just worried about time. There never seems to be enough time.” 

Kevin peered over at her, an expression of concern beginning to form. “Are we still talking about sex, Betty?” 

She looked away from Jughead to address Kevin. “Yeah. I mean – I’m worried about all of our other duties that we’ve got going on, and we’re almost adults. Soon, we’ll need to get jobs and he’s going to join the Serpents and I’ll be second fiddle to all of that other business.” 

“You’re just turning 18, Betty. It’s not like you’re nearing 80 with one year left to live.” 

“I know, I know. But don’t you ever feel like it’s all happening so quickly? Like we’re forced to grow up and become this person we don’t even know yet but need to figure out before the clock strikes midnight on the last day of your 17th year? I love Jughead, and he’s my life, but the other parts of who I am, I can’t seem to locate.” She exhaled, her hands coming up to tighten her ponytail. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll just have to wait and figure it out.” 

“Damn, girl. You _need_ to get laid. You’ve got too much pent up energy in that little body of yours.” Kevin stood up quickly, surveying the space around them for any prying adult ears. When he deemed the coast clear, he leaned down in front of Betty. “I have an idea, a way we can both get what we want tonight.” 

Betty’s ears perked up, her eyebrow cocking with curiosity. “I’m listening.” 

“How about you sneak away during the fireworks show? I’ll distract your mother and help her clean up afterward and I’ll tell her you and Jughead went for a ride. Then I’ll convince Joaquin to take me for one and we’ll tell Alice we are meeting up with you. You guys can go wherever – his bedroom, your bedroom, for an actual ride, it doesn’t matter. You’ll just get a chance to get out and have some alone time, and I’ll get the chance to have some of my own with Joaquin. I suspect he’d be cool covering for his two horny best friends?” 

Betty considered the plan. It wasn’t completely fool-proof, but her mother trusted Kevin and, to be honest, Betty was growing more and more wound up each time she kissed Jughead. Kevin was right – she needed to blow off some excess steam in a way that seemed _productive._

“I’ll see what Jughead thinks. Personally, I think you’re a genius, Keller.” 

“Thank you. And no, no, don’t tell him. It should be a surprise.” They both looked over across the field and watched as Jughead sent Betty a puckered air kiss. Kevin chuckled. “Look at that poor sap. He has no idea he’s going to get some tonight.” 

Betty slapped his arm lightly, standing to refill her tea. “Come on, Kevin. I need you to help me fix up my makeup.” 

Two hours later, after the sun had completely gone down, FP and Tall Boy were working on a row of fireworks, shooting them off one by one. Sparks flew high in the sky, turning into explosions of red and green and blue, the sound of crackling echoing wildly in the air. 

Betty stood in front of Jughead, her back flush against his chest as his arms folded comfortably over her waist. She leaned into him and felt him plant a soft kiss on the crown of her head. She told herself she wished she could remain right there, in that moment, for eternity, but she remembered her less than innocent intentions for the night and nerves began to spread wildly down to her toes. 

Jughead felt her shiver in his arms and he leaned forward to shout against the fireworks in her ear. “Cold?” 

She shook her head and swiveled around to face him. She leaned up to kiss him and grabbed his wrist, mindful of her mother standing ten feet in front of her, chatting mindlessly with Kevin. Jughead looked a bit confused, but he followed as she tugged him back inside the bar, away from the spectacle of the fireworks. 

Once they were greeted with the overwhelming silence of the bar, Jughead finally spoke up. “Babe, what’s going on?” 

She stood on her tiptoes and planted a hard kiss on his lips. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

He chuckled, looking around the room. “Where? We’re surrounded by our parents, Betty.” 

She looked down at his chest, her fingers running down to trace along the lines of his pecs through his white wife beater. “We don’t have to stay here. We can go somewhere else, go on the bike. I don’t care. I just want to be with you.” 

The plea in her last sentence had his eyes widening as he understood the context underneath. He looked back out toward the back door, watching the fireworks shoot out through the window. “Dad bought about three hours-worth of display. That should buy us about two more hours.” He turned to grip her hands, leading her to the staircase. “Let’s go to my bedroom. I want to take my time and I don’t know where we could go where I trust we’d get that luxury.” 

She nodded, but pulled against his grip. “Hold on,” she muttered, making her way back to the bar. She grabbed a bottle of gold tequila, the closest she could find, and returned to where he stood. He looked at her and the bottle and grinned. 

“I know, I know, but I’m – well, shit, I’m a little nervous and I want something to calm me down.” 

He pulled her in for a soft embrace, placing a featherlike kiss on her forehead. “Me too, Betts. Me too.” 

They crept up the staircase, following the familiar path to Jughead’s bedroom. When they got inside, he turned and locked the door. She turned to face him and suddenly it seemed all too real – this was happening. 

“For privacy,” he clarified as he began to kick off his boots. Betty gulped lightly, looking around at his messy bedroom. He brought his head up to scratch behind his neck nervously. 

“Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to clean my room before…. Well… I didn’t know before that this was going to happen. I guess I should have known. Did you know?” He could hear himself ramble on. He gestured to the tequila in her hand. “Shit, you better give me some of that. I can’t seem to shut up.” 

Betty giggled, happy he was lifting the mood. She offered the bottle in her outstretched hand. “Yeah, I knew this was going to happen. I sort of planned it with Kevin.” 

He took a pull of the harsh gold liquor and coughed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before handing her the bottle back. “Shit, Kevin knows? The fuck, Betty?” His tone was playful, a smirk building on his lips. 

She laughed and shrugged. “Well, it was his idea, actually! He wanted an excuse to get Joaquin involved, I think. So really he’s just using our hormones to spring a chance to get Joaquin alone. He’s telling my mom that they are meeting us on a late night bike ride. So,” she continued, “we have to pretend like we’re not here. That means being quiet.” 

He watched her, the liquor beginning to course through his veins as the longing within him grew. “I don’t think it’s me you need to warn about being quiet.” The knowing blush that appeared on her cheeks made his cock twitch. 

She took her own swig of tequila, closing her eyes against the harsh burn of the liquor on her lips after setting the bottle on the desk beside her. “I’m well aware of my volume issues. I’m just reminding you because, well… I plan on doing things we haven’t done yet.” She suddenly couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. 

Seconds passed on before he spoke, clearing his throat. “Betty, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.” 

She shook her head quickly, bringing her arms up to cross over her chest, fully clothed but feeling exposed. “That’s not it, Jug. I want to do it. I want to be with you.” She exhaled, closing her eyes against the anxiety she felt. “God, it’s all I’ve wanted for so long.” 

He stepped forward, closing the distance between their shivering bodies. “Me too, Betts. You’re all I think about.” When he reached her, he wrapped her in his arms and pressed soft kisses on the top of her head. It was going to take a bit more than liquid courage to get her to relax. His words always seemed to do the trick. 

“When I lay in this bed every night, you’re the last thing I think about.” He swallowed his nerves and continued, feeling an odd sensation of modesty that he rarely felt with her. “There are times I think about you, naked, moving underneath me. God, just thinking about those little sounds you make when we kiss gets me hard every time.” 

Betty pressed her lips together and smiled, despite her nerves. “Really, Jug?” She looked up at him, catching the look of love in his eyes. They had exchanged the words years ago, but it always took her breath away to see it so clearly in the way he looked at her. “Tell me what you do.” 

He smirked. “I reach down into my boxers and touch myself.” He leaned in to whisper hot breath on her ear. “You always know how to make me come, Betts.” 

She closed her eyes and moaned softly, feeling the familiar gathering of heat start to build in between her legs. She brought her hands up to push at the straps of her dress, the print of cherries across a white background slithering down to pool around her feet. Jughead stepped back to take her in, a vision of young blonde nirvana with a strapless blue bra and soft navy cotton panties. The deep blue brought out the green in her eyes, framed lightly by a dark line of brown eyeliner. 

“Betty Cooper, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his words nearly trapped in his caught breath. 

She blushed and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered back, not quite sure what to say in response to the way he stared at her. It was so pure and so invasive, like he could see right within her. She reached out to grab the hem of his tank and pulled up. He helped her remove the shirt, leaving him bare in his jeans and crown-beanie. Her hands drifted up to his hat and she slipped it off, her fingers weaving through the silk of his hair gently. 

“I love you, Jughead.” 

“Betty Cooper, I love you.” He leaned down to press a tender kiss on her lips. “I’m not quite sure what I did today to get so lucky to end it here with you half-naked in my arms, but I’ll make sure not to complain.” 

She chuckled, reaching back to unclasp her bra. The material fell to the ground and goosebumps began to pepper the soft skin of her chest. Jughead’s eyes dropped to her breasts, his hands itching north to grab and caress. He was gentle, taking his time to mold and squeeze, and when he brought his lips to one of her nipples, her back arched in gratitude. 

She continued to weave patterns into his hair as his mouth worked on her chest, licking and nibbling and soothing with his eager lips. She could feel the dampness spread to the front of her panties and she was anxious to get them off. “Jug,” she whimpered and he brought his head up, releasing her nipple with a soft pop. 

She stepped back and bent forward, grabbing the elastic band of her panties. He watched as they slithered to the ground and his pants became achingly tight. Betty inched closer and reached out to undo his jeans and he wondered where she got this sudden burst of confidence. 

He certainly wouldn’t be complaining. 

As she worked on the button and zipper, he reached down and slid a finger along her entrance, feeling the moisture gather just on the edge. She bit her bottom lip and moaned, managing to get him unzipped before her head flew back in pleasure. His finger slipped beyond her entrance, quickly covered in her slick arousal. “Fuck, Betty. You’re going to feel so damn good around me.” 

She reached back for his jeans, her movements rushed as the fire within her began to spread and build. She yanked down the denim, sending them to the floor. He stepped out of his pant legs, his mouth now working on forming little red splotches along her collarbone. They both stumbled backward, toppling over onto the firm surface of his mattress. Jughead was careful not to put his whole weight on Betty, landing on his elbows that framed her face beneath him. 

She could feel the hardened bulge in his boxers press against her thigh and her hips bucked up and forward. Jughead’s finger returned inside her, moving in and out. The sounds of her slickness echoed in the otherwise quiet of his room, the crack and snap of fireworks outside joining in, together an orchestral soundtrack to their lovemaking. 

Jughead began to kiss up and down the column of her neck as she panted softly, getting lost in the feeling of him spreading her silken arousal around the entrance to her quivering lower lips. 

He heard her whimper his name over and over and it was driving him mad. He slid his finger out of her, causing her to cry out in reckless desperation, and he chuckled, thinking how quickly their attempts at volume control had failed. He reached down and peeled his boxers below his hips, working to shift out of them as he pulled his hard and throbbing cock toward her with his hand. 

Betty opened her legs further for him, bending her knees up. He framed himself in between them, one hand coming up to cup the top of her knee, the other gripping and palming him. He stroked his length slowly, watching her with dark lustful eyes. Betty writhed under his gaze, her perky breasts flushed with excitement. 

They both took a moment to think, their connection so tethered that they could nearly communicate without speaking. Betty knew he was waiting for the green light to move forward and she smiled, giving him the go-ahead with a beckon of her finger. He growled and leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her lips. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop, okay, baby?” He kissed the tip of her nose, a gesture so tender and so genuine it made her heart squeeze. She nodded, her head falling back against the padded surface of his pillow as she felt the thick tip of his cock right at her entrance. He traced a line up and down, sticking the tip in slowly to gather moisture for lubricant. 

He watched her with bated breath, careful to clue in on any hint of pain or objection, as he pushed in slowly, getting a little more than the tip in before he felt the telling wall of her virginity. He paused, waiting for her to say stop. When instead she brought a hand to cup the side of his cheek, the look of love and lust thick in her eyes, he took that as a sign to continue and he pushed forward, feeling the break of her inner wall. 

She gasped out, her eyes wincing together with the sudden brush of pain. 

“Are you okay, baby?” he asked, searching her expression for an answer. She brought a single finger to his lips to silence him. 

“Shh,” she shushed, opening one eye in response. After a second or two of adjustment, she opened her other eye and nodded. “I’m ready, Jughead.” 

He nodded in return and his hips thrust forward, soft and slow, as every inch of him was swallowed up within her tight, engorged walls. He burrowed his head in the crook of her neck and tried to settle his breathing. 

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned. “You’re so tight, Betty.” She fingered the back of his head, her body beginning to adjust further with every stroke and every thrust. She could feel him deep within her, throbbing and thick. 

“Jug, your cock feels so good.” 

He growled, the filth on her tongue bringing him to that treacherous edge. He had to hold back, careful not to spill within her too soon. He knew she had been on birth control for years. He typically trusted himself to normally handle this kind of business, trusted that he would have taken enough precaution to procure protection, but enough time had elapsed that he hadn’t expected them to take this step before they turned 18. 

“Everything feels so good, Betts.” He winced, trying to reign back in his control. “I don’t think I’m going to last long, baby.” 

He brought his head up to kiss her, their tongues dancing together in a passionate exchange. His finger traveled south to thumb the sensitive spot just above their joining, rubbing a circular pattern until she was wriggling beneath him wildly. 

“I – I’m about to come, Jug.” He could feel her walls begin to clench down on him, quivering and drowning him with her increasing wetness. It was true ecstasy, this sensation of her tight pussy enveloping his throbbing cock like hands brought together in prayer. 

“Come on, Betts. Come for me, come all over me.” He kissed down her jawline, kissed down her neck. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as the tingling in her toes overwhelmed all other sensation and she tipped over the edge, her walls gripping him, clinging to him for dear life. 

He thrust into her and lost all control, the feel of her tight hold causing him to unravel and spiral out. He shot a thick stream of his come inside her, smearing her walls with his white hot desire. His lips came crashing down on hers, their staggered breath lost in their embrace. 

They continued to kiss, soothing each other through the come down, easing through the aftershocks with soft caresses and the lacing of their fingers. 

“I love you so much, Betty – so fucking much it hurts.” She reached up to finger his hair, her eyes locking into his gaze. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. You make me feel whole when all I want to do is break apart.” His eyes looked desperate and fearful. 

Betty didn’t know where this act of confession was coming from, but she knew she felt the same things, tenfold. “Jug, you’re the most important thing in my life. I love you more than I thought I could love someone or something. You’ve always been here to keep me safe, and there’s nowhere more I feel protected and whole than right here in your arms.” 

“I would do anything for you, Betty.” The depth in his eyes expanded and she felt herself falling in like an endless well. “I’d die for you if I had to, to keep you safe.” 

She released his hair, bringing her hand around to cup his face. “I know you would, Jug. We’re safe right now, right here, together.” 

“Promise me you won’t leave, Betty. Promise me.” And suddenly Betty knew where this sudden rush of emotion was coming from. _His mother. Jellybean._ Everyone he had loved, other than his father, had left, one way or another. Jughead was at his most vulnerable right there with her in his bed, the bed he had comforted her in that first night she arrived at the Wyrm. The bed she had soothed him to sleep in the night he had lost his sister. And now, the bed they had made love in for the first time. 

“I promise, Jughead Jones. You are my life. I couldn’t leave you even if I wanted to. You’re a part of me.” She felt the water well in her eyes and she let out a soft exhale when his lips came down to drink the tears that began to spill. 

“You are my heart, my pulse, my life, Elizabeth Cooper.” 

She felt her heart give as her arms came around his back and hugged him closer to her chest. She knew they were on borrowed time before the fireworks show wrapped up, but she kept promising herself one more minute, one more minute, before they eventually fell asleep there in each other’s arms, surrounded by the comfort of the bed that began it all. 

///////

**Scene Five**

3:30 am. The clock glared back at Betty, its red numbers blinking boldly almost out of spite. 

It had been hours since Jughead had returned from his rumble with his fellow Serpents. _Another late night Ghoulie ambush,_ Betty thought bitterly. 

Since Jughead had turned 18 and been handed his official Southside Serpent cut, his priority had been the gang and maintaining its integrity – even if it meant leaving Betty’s side to rumble with rival biker gang The Ghoulies. 

To be fair, Betty hated the Ghoulies. For as long as she lived, she would remember how they had shown up at the scene of her father’s murder, the vision of their leader standing tall across the flames, the bikes behind him glistening in the heat. There were still nights where she woke up in a cold sweat, afraid to close her eyes and revisit the nightmare all over again. 

As she aged, Betty would learn that the Ghoulies had shown up at her house that night to inspect their work, confirming a successful hit that Riverdale heroin kingpin Clifford Blossom had orchestrated. However, despite her hate, she recognized that they were dangerous and the thought of her 18 year old, newly-minted Serpent boyfriend going off half-cocked in a show of male aggression had her shivering with fear and anxiety. 

It wasn’t like Jughead to not keep a cool head, especially in stressful situations, but with testosterone and too much on the line, including the reputation of the Serpents and the avengement of Hal Cooper’s death, there wasn’t much she couldn’t expect Jughead to do. 

When the Serpents pulled up inside the open garage just after midnight, Betty came flying out of the kitchen, her hot mug of peppermint tea discarded and ignored at the sound of Jughead’s screams. He clung to the back of his father, his other hand clutching his left side. When the bikes had stopped and the other members had helped Jughead dismount, Betty could see rivets of blood escape between his fingers. 

He was taken to a back room, Betty hot on their heels, but Tall Boy placed himself between her and the door. She knew no matter how much pounding she did on his chest or expletives she yelled in his ear, he wouldn’t budge for her. This was club business and she came second, no matter how much they all loved and respected her. 

The last thing she remembered before she whisked herself up to her room was seeing Jughead lowered onto a pool table, blood bubbling out of his side when he removed his hand to reveal a sizable cut right below his tattoo – their tattoo. 

Betty reached down and traced the outline of her own matching ink right under her left breast. Though the pain of the procedure had only lasted fifteen minutes, the words “Mo Chuisle” would be there for a lifetime. 

They had adopted the expression, its meaning “my pulse” or “my darling,” shortly after he had turned 18, an homage to his Scottish Gaelic heritage. It was a symbol of the love they shared, of their hearts beating only for each other. 

_Their shared pulse._

Betty looked down to watch the love of her life slumber, tucked now under a sheet in their bed, knocked out from pain killers. His left side was covered in a giant white bandage, sealed by thick paper tape. Underneath, she knew his tattoo was tainted with dried blood, stitches, and the slash that represented the violent life they would continue to have together if he stayed in the Serpents. 

She could and would never ask him to leave the club. They were his family, just as much as she was. Jughead didn’t have much in his life that gave him happiness, but the feeling of boyish belonging that he got from the Serpents was one. 

His breathing was slow and deep and she watched as his chest rose and fall, his arms crossed over his torso in protection. Even in sleep, Jughead never let his mind rest. She could see the lines in his face tense up and relax every few seconds, and she wondered what he might be dreaming of. 

Betty had dreams too, dreams that didn’t rest here in the confines of the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead had become her life, but the intensity of their love sometimes felt suffocating at her young age of 18, standing at the precipice of adulthood. It wasn’t that she wanted to be with anyone else, not interested in exploring the romantic options that remained beyond those bar doors. 

What she wanted was a life with Jughead that was safe, protected without the threat of a knife to the gut or a bullet to the brain. 

She thought she could look past the trauma of her father’s death, but as her eyes fell back upon the wound beneath the words of their love etched onto Jughead’s skin, she felt the doubt creep in. 

Betty surveyed the room, taking in every detail as she worked to sort her thoughts. Months ago, in a spur of the moment decision, she had submitted an application to a university a few hours away known for their accolades in creative writing. During her junior year, she had discovered a passion for investigative pieces, devoting a grand chunk of her afternoons tucked away in a booth at the bar as she read fiction and non-fiction pieces about criminal justice and law. She fell for the works of Marc Mauer and Jonathan Simon, devouring Sister Helen Prejean’s _Dead Man Walking_ in a matter of mere hours. 

Here, in this room, she felt like her own prisoner, sentenced to Death Row without a means of escape but a flimsy piece of paper saying she had been accepted. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to mention this act of spontaneity to Jughead, worried how he might react or how he might interpret the action. She didn’t think she would even get accepted, her senior year scores less than impeccable as her time was better spent wrapped up in the arms of her boyfriend. 

When she received the letter in the mail, though, she had trembled with anxiety and shoved it away in the back of her dresser, thinking to ignore it would simply mean it didn’t exist. Now, as she sat here watching her boyfriend passed out after a night of bloodshed that seemed utter unnecessary, that letter was the biggest thing on her mind. 

Her mother was the only one who knew about her acceptance. Alice had been supportive of her daughter’s decision, but Betty could see the hint of disappointment there in the way her mother looked at her. Though she knew Betty was tethered to the Serpent prince, Alice Cooper wanted nothing more than for her daughter to flee the violent ghosts of her father’s past. 

Alice had found comfort in settling for the Southside, her home before her home with Hal in Riverdale, but she also recognized it was not the place she had envisioned her daughters to stay put in. The day Polly had left for college, Betty could almost see her mother mentally checking one daughter off the list, one more to go before she could relax, knowing they both were out of harms’ way. Betty had thought her mother’s fears were a bit senseless, but now that she witnessed firsthand the stress that came with the territory, Betty began to envision a new piece of land where she could plant herself. 

Away with the violence. Away from the gangs and the guns and the Ghoulies. _Away from Jughead._

The thought caused her more heartache than she could have imagined. She felt like clutching her chest, but she knew pain could be temporary. The tattoo on her chest, the crown on her forearm, the dull ache replacing the sharp crushing weight of her father’s death taught her this. It was better for them both to be apart. 

She would only hold him back from the full potential of who he wanted to become. And didn’t he deserve that, after all he had endured, after losing his sister and his mother – didn’t he deserve to choose the kind of person he wanted to be? 

Betty leaned over from her spot on the bed, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. She heard him grumble sleepily, his hand coming up to scratch a spot on his neck. 

“You coming to bed, baby?” 

Betty nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see. “Yeah,” she whispered. She stood and opened her dresser drawers slowly and softly, gathering handfuls of clothing and setting them inside a suitcase she had retrieved from the inside of the closet. As quiet as a church mouse, Betty packed away the priority essentials, knowing her mother would be able to send her the rest. 

_Her mother._ Betty could call her from the road. 

Betty approached the door, opening it slowly to let a soft beam of light trickle in and drape over Jughead’s sleeping body. She swallowed back the tears and blew him a silent kiss, her cowardly way of saying goodbye, before she walked out, shutting the door gently behind her. 

Hours later, when the sun had risen high in the sky and the pain killers had begun to wear off, Jughead arose to find Betty’s side of the bed empty. He winced as he made his way downstairs, looking over to find Alice resting on a bar stool, hunched over a mug of coffee. 

She looked up at the sound of Jughead approaching, her face tired and sad as she took him in. She reached over the bar and pulled back a bottle of bourbon. Jughead watched as she unscrewed the cap and poured a lofty dose into the mug. As he approached the bar, she slid the drink his way. He took it, his brow pulled together in confusion. 

“Jughead,” Alice mumbled, gesturing to the stool next to her while she fiddled with her thumbs. “Drink. We need to talk.” 

A few minutes later, Jughead was storming out of the bar, the mug of coffee and booze smashed on the cement floor. He launched himself outdoors and scanned the lot for her car, for any sign of Betty Cooper, any trace of her scent, long gone with the smell of the road and the wind. 

He yelled out her name, his entire body straining against the scream, and he could feel his stitches begin to separate. 

As he looked down to watch the dressing turn from white to red, could feel the burning sting of the wound resurrect to life, he realized the pain in his side, the pain of violence, was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Two:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Mr. Tambourine Man” by The Byrds
> 
> \--“Stuck In the Middle With You” by Stealers Wheel
> 
> \--“Somebody’s Baby” by Jackson Browne
> 
> \--“Brown-Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Three:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Peace Train” by Cat Stevens
> 
> \--“Beast of Burden” by The Rolling Stones
> 
> \--“In the Still of the Night” by The Five Satins
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Four**
> 
>  
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> \--“Young God” by Halsey
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Five**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Blue Jeans” by Lana Del Ray


	2. THE ENDLESS REVOLVER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.  
> However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I want to say a giant thank you to everyone who read the first act, left a comment or a kudo, and/or recommended this fic on tumblr. I am so amazed at the reception Act One received. I can only hope this next chapter can live up to that precedent.
> 
> I want to apologize for the lack of smut in this chapter. As of now, it is the only chapter I have planned without a sex scene, however you can bet the next one will make up for the drought. This chapter is more a means of setting up the story in the current day. We will be reintroduced to a few familiar faces and learn more about what’s been going on in the past decade for both Jughead & the Serpents and Betty. I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr or reach out to me on there if you have any questions or comments! I’m open to them all (elegantmoonchild)!!!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**Scene One**

_It was just another sunny summer day,_ Betty kept trying to convince herself. _There’s no reason to panic, no reason to pull over onto the side of the road and breathe into a paper bag._

But Betty couldn’t hide the facts any further as she switched gears, speeding up down the road in her beat-up Ford F-150 pick-up truck – she was going home. 

It had been nearly ten years since Betty Cooper had stepped foot in the dusty, antique corner of New York where Riverdale rested like a sleepy old town, the same inhabitants cycling through generation after generation, carbon copies of their parents and their parents before them and so on. The thought was mildly depressing, but Betty knew she had business to see to, problems to take care of – a sister to save. 

It wasn’t quite that dramatic. Polly wasn’t in any immediate danger, not that Betty could decipher from their recent phone calls and written letters. It was quite the opposite, actually, as Polly had seemed almost genuinely happy over the phone, spilling long-winded details about her new boyfriend and their perfect life together. 

With the Ghoulies. 

Polly may not see it, but Betty knew she wasn’t safe, knew she couldn’t trust her sister’s situation despite Polly’s protests that her boyfriend was loving, generous, and caring. How could Jason Blossom, the son of their father’s murderer, be loving, generous, and caring? 

Betty couldn’t fathom how her sister had found herself in the bed of a Blossom. 

Betty sneered as she thought about her sister and their childhood together. Polly always had a thing for bad boys – that was no lie. In her sophomore year, Polly had managed to tangle with a small gang that hung around Southside High, no major affiliation but definitely not a group of boys interested in innocent fun. When Alice had caught Polly one afternoon, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips, her hands tangled in the hair of a guy with bright blue tresses and spikes on his coat, she had nearly blown a gasket. Betty thought she had never seen her mother look so pissed. 

However, this was different. Jason was a Ghoulie, the gang who enacted the gruesome murder of their dad. Betty couldn’t forget the sight of tall fire, the stench of burnt rubber and charred flesh – her father’s charred flesh. _How could Polly be so forgiving?_

She remembered the phone call she had with Polly when her sister first mentioned her relationship with Jason. Polly confessed at first she had hated Jason, despised him for what his family had done to hers. They had run into each other at a party back when Polly was still doing recreational cocaine with her old roommate. Apparently, the dealer got his supply from the Ghoulies and invited Jason over to celebrate. To Betty, that should have been enough of a red flag, but her sister always had a knack for ignoring warning signs. 

Betty had laughed, though, when Polly said at first glance, she had threatened to kick Jason’s ass. It definitely was not love at first sight, but after they talked at this party and she felt a genuine connection, she couldn’t deny the chemistry between them. 

_And here it comes,_ Betty thought as Polly listed off all of the excuses that made this alliance with Jason Blossom allowable. She said he was charming, friendly with everyone, _absolutely gorgeous,_ and someone with a big heart that he kept hidden. He bought her gifts, often showing up at her workplace with lunch and taking her out for expensive dinners. She compared their relationship to “Romeo  & Juliet,” a love forbidden by the hatred between two families, convinced that Jason had no part or knew nothing of their father’s murder. 

Surely she must be under some duress. Betty couldn’t get passed this nagging feeling that Jason may not be who he said he was. How could any Blossom be that charming without having some ulterior motive? Could her sister really be played that easily? Maybe she had wised up, but was in too deep to leave Jason? Betty thought back to their last phone call, searching for any clues in her head that may have pointed to some sort of hidden message. 

_Come find me, Betty. Come help me. I’m being held captive and they want to finish off the entire Cooper clan._

Betty shook her head. This trail of thoughts would not help to extinguish the anxiety she felt bubbling in her stomach, threatening to spill over into acidic vomit. Truly, it didn’t help that they had shacked up with the Ghoulies’ long-time rival after Hal had been killed. That probably didn’t help the target they had, but Betty tried to be realistic. They weren’t going to kill her entire family just because her father had made some poor, albeit severely lethal, business decisions with Clifford Blossom. 

_Right?_

Betty was spiraling and needed a clear mind. She was minutes away from pulling into the parking lot of her past. On the one hand, she was going to see her mother again. It had been about two years since Alice had managed to break away for a visit to Albany to see her. They tried to talk often, but Betty had the impression that mention of her around the bar was especially taboo. 

And therein lied the other hand, the one major issue she faced returning back to the land of Serpents – Jughead Jones. 

Her ex-boyfriend hadn’t spoken to her since she walked out of the Whyte Wyrm a decade ago. He tried to reach out, sending text after text and call after call, but they lost contact indefinitely seconds after she had tossed her cell phone off a crossing bridge somewhere on her way upstate. It nearly killed her to destroy that link between them, but it was something she had to do. They had to be physically separated. 

And after all, as Betty glanced down at the Basquiat crown tattoo on the outer edge of her forearm, she knew there were still some links that were permanent. 

She had gotten the tattoo on her 18th birthday, almost four months after she had gotten the matching Gaelic tattoo with Jughead under her breast. The crown was a symbol of her love solely for Jughead, her recognition that he was the king of her life, the person she leaned on for advice and help and support. It was her vow to be his servant, just as he was for her, to help him run his kingdom. It was all very hyped, very “high school love,” but it had meant something deep for both of them. Their connection spanned over years, the well of feeling between them wide and cavernous. 

But Betty had broken that vow, and she was about to try and lean on Jughead to see just how much the vow still meant on his end. It was what she had to do to solicit support to get her sister out of this messy situation. 

Did she think Jughead would leap at the chance to help her? She doubted it, but she knew the Serpents hated the Ghoulies and wanted the Blossoms snuffed out, extinct. She had to play on that angle. It might be the only card she had left to play. 

She wondered what Jughead would look like now. He had always been incredibly handsome, dangerous around the edges with an amazingly soft inside that mostly she alone saw. She knew he would be running most of the Serpent business by now, learning to take the reins from his father, FP. Alice had mentioned the Jones patriarch’s interest in retirement, using up his elder years to work solely on bikes and enjoy the spoils of his 50’s and beyond. Betty couldn’t imagine that Jughead wouldn’t be prepared by now to take over. He had been working diligently in his teen years to earn his cut, earn his seat at the table. Betty knew Jughead would do what was necessary to achieve whatever it was he set out for himself. He was a true survivor, just like her, and would do what he needed for protection at all costs. 

However, maybe too much time had elapsed, and maybe he was an entirely different person than she remembered. For the last ten years, she was voluntarily in the dark where it concerned her ex. She had commanded her mother to leave his name out of conversation, and Alice Cooper had stayed true to her promise. 

She would find out soon enough, though. Betty couldn’t avoid Jughead forever. 

How did she ever expect, when she left the Southside all those years ago, that she would be able to refuse his memory for long? With as much time that had elapsed, he was still the only love of her life that she recognized. She had been involved with other men since, but none of them could reach her heart like Jughead. Betty blamed it on their extensive history, but she had to wonder if there was more there beneath the surface that she was ignoring. 

She reached down and turned up the volume dial on the radio, the gritty sound of Halsey’s “Gasoline” echoing out of her speakers to drown out her thoughts, and she put her foot down on the gas to increase her speed, flying down the highway toward the only home she was scared of. 

///////

**Scene Two**

It was just after 4:30 in the afternoon when Betty rolled into the dusty parking lot of the Whyte Wyrm. As the truck came to a stop, Betty took a look around to observe her old stomping grounds. 

Time had ignored the Wyrm, not much changing over the years except for a fresh coat of paint on the canvas awning with the bar’s infamous logo – a spitting serpent poised to attack in front of a bright full moon. The tin siding on the roof had a sprinkling of rust on the edges where it hadn’t been before, and the front door, once black metal was now barn door brown with red framing – otherwise the bar seemed to have been frozen in time. 

Betty climbed out of the pickup, thinking it best to leave her belongings inside at first. The outside may not have changed much, but she could bet the inhabitants inside had and she wasn’t sure how receptive they would be to her return. 

The sun was high, hot and unforgiving, and she wiped a few spare beads of sweat off of her brow. She wanted to blame it on the heat, but the shaking of her palms told her there was more at work here than the temperature. She wiped her hands on the front of her jeans and gathered up enough gumption to step forward and swing one of the barn doors open for entrance. 

The inside had the most work done, the cement flooring replaced with dark brown wood with a thick layer of shine. The bar, still long and lean, had also been treated to a fresh coat of paint, now black with red studs layering the side that faced the customers, covered in a thick pad of black leather for comfort. The lights were down, allowing for a more natural means of light provided by the wide windows, the shutters thrown open in invitation. Though Betty recalled it was the responsibility of club members to keep up with the bar’s interior, she could see the little touches here and there implemented by her mother. Alice Cooper always had a keen eye for decoration. Little sprinkles of color, the organization of the bottles behind the bar, an extra set of fluffy couches in the corner for drunken conversation – they all screamed efficient and inviting. 

Betty wasn’t sure if it was luck or fate’s metaphor that left the main bar room completely empty when she walked in. The jukebox was playing some sort of soft, smoky melody, the sound so faint it nearly blended into the backdrop of the bar. The flag of the Southside Serpents hung from the wooden rafters, the green eyes of the large angry-looking snake glaring down at her. It had never made her feel more unwelcome. 

There was a moment when she considered turning around, running back to her truck and finding the nearest hotel. She figured she might be better off trying to figure out this whole mess by herself, free from the impending drama that would come with her return. However, before she could turn on her heel and leave, her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of glass breaking and shouts coming from the room she once recognized as the kitchen. 

She could hear the teasing laughter of a man, the voice so familiar it nearly brought a smile to her lips. Joaquin stumbled out of the room, his eyes focused on the other person inside the kitchen. He was laughing and clutching his sides, as if the product of some sort of prank she hadn’t been privy to. Betty wanted to say something, but her lips felt glued together. 

She had forgotten that Jughead hadn’t been the only person she had walked out on. 

When he turned, sensing her presence, and she caught the icy blue of his stare, met the stern lines that replaced the laughter on his lips, she realized he hadn’t forgotten. 

They stood across the bar from each other for what felt like minutes. Betty was unsure of what to do, what to say. She figured Jughead would be the major obstacle in her gauntlet, but she hadn’t expected that Joaquin too might feel like punishing her for leaving him. 

After a good solid silence, when Betty was finally gearing up to speak, Joaquin’s face burst into a wide smile and he hurried toward her. She took his cue and ran forward, allowing him to catch her in a swift embrace, spinning her around as she laughed excitedly. He set her back down on her feet and pulled her in for a fierce, tight hug. When he pulled away, his hands came up to cup her face and he pressed a solid kiss right on her lips. 

“Betty! What the Hell are you doing here?” He picked up her arm, investigated her skin. “You’re really here, right? I’m not dreaming or seeing ghosts?” His eyes returned to hers and she felt her heart burst with love. 

Time had certainly changed Joaquin. He had somehow shot up an extra few inches, though still just shy of 6’0”. His hair was still unruly, but she could see gray already streaking through his tresses here and there, scattered and few like flecks of salt and pepper. His eyes were still blue and beautiful, but there were creases on the edge nearest his temples. _Age lines,_ she recognized, and suddenly felt incredibly guilty for not being around. 

“It’s really me, Quin. I’m back.” She looked him up and down openly. “You’re still wearing those basic white t-shirts, I see.” They shared a chuckle and he brought a hand up to brush through his thick wavy locks. 

“Yeah, you know me, reliable to the end.” Betty knew he meant it as a casual joke, but she felt the sting nonetheless. 

“Listen, Betty, I’m glad to see you again and we should catch up soon, but are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be around here? Jug—“

But suddenly her attention was diverted and Joaquin’s voice was muffled and nonexistent. Across the room, descending the wide, wooden staircase, was the Prince of Snakes himself. Jughead looked up and froze mid-step, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. The expression in his eyes quickly shifted, staring daggers into hers and for a moment she forgot who she was, forgot that this man had such a reason for the hate she now saw embedded deep within his gaze. 

Even with the tight tense razor sharp line of his jawbone, Betty thought he looked overwhelmingly handsome, the kind that was dark and dangerous and nearly unattainable. He was still tall, still well built with just the right amount of firmness in the right spots – the spots she remembered gripping onto late at night when they were buried beneath the sheets. He wore his usual black denim and light gray Henley, the sleeves rolled up by habit under stress. His hair was still thick, still unruly, still black as night but his usual gray crown-shaped beanie that she knew he wore for comfort was gone. Though she always adored the way he looked with it on, youthful and modest, Betty had to admit this new look made him seem more adult. 

His eyes, though, they hadn’t changed – they were still the same penetrating blue. 

Everything about him made the memories of their love come flooding back like a tidal wave, slamming into her heart and brain. She remembered the first day they had met, standing in the same positions they were standing in now. He had looked so sleepy-eyed and small, but his solace when she had wanted to break down and cry filled her with so much strength. She recalled the first night they had made love, when they had subconsciously wrapped themselves around each other in sleep before Joaquin was pounding on Jughead’s door at 6 am. She knew she loved him before, but that night she had learned that it was possible to love someone even harder. And finally, she remembered the painful way it felt to watch him sleep and know when he woke in the morning, she’d be long gone, leaving their love behind on the highway somewhere between Riverdale and her separate future without him. 

But that was their past selves, and he was a different man then – hers. She could see by the tense look on his face that this was someone new, a stranger. 

Betty shook her head, finally coming to. She knew it might be possible to come back from the dead, but it wasn’t smart to resurrect old feelings. 

As if encouraged but her subtle head movement, Jughead cleared his throat and continued his descent, his face erased of any sign of anger, replaced only by apathy. Betty couldn’t decide which hurt worse. 

“Look who finally came back.” Jughead landed at the foot of the stairs and paused, resting his elbow casually on the banister. “I guess you learned about a minute too late that snakes don’t shed their skins so easily.” 

Betty couldn’t find her words, watched as he approached her, his saunter slow and steady as he slid his arms into the sleeve of the leather jacket he was holding. When he stopped, five feet away, he looked her up and down and she hated that she blushed, amazed at how obvious he was being – almost as if he didn’t care. 

“I thought you were dead, Betty. Nearly ten years and not a single phone call, even just to say ‘hey, how’s it going, I left you behind like a coward because I couldn’t face you in the morning’. You know, something as simple as that.” 

Betty found her voice, willed herself to stay calm. _So they were going to pick right up where they left off._

“That night was the tipping point. Seeing you hurt, seeing all of that blood come out of you like that – I just couldn’t take it.” 

“Well, I’m glad the choice was easy for you, then. I’d hate to have made the decision hard for you.” 

“It had been on my mind for a while actually. I had applied to SUNY in Albany. I got in.” She watched as the shadow of reaction crossed his face – surprise and hurt. “I wanted to tell you, but after you had been hurt, it just seemed like the timing made sense.” 

Jughead scoffed. “I’m happy to hear that, Betty. I really am. I’m glad it made sense to one of us because it sure as Hell made no sense to me. One moment I’m bleeding out on a pool table, terrified for my life, and the next morning I reach out to find you, the one person who I trusted, only to find you had fled. One night you tell me you love me, twelve hours later you’re halfway across the state building a new life for yourself. That makes a lot of sense.” The sardonic tone in his voice was becoming more and more evident, and the thin veil of nonchalance he wore began to slip. 

“I never meant to hurt you, Jug.” And they both winced, the informality in his name reminding them both of happier days. 

“You went on and did something with yourself. That’s nice. So why are you back in the Southside?” 

“I, uh – “, but she couldn’t quite get the words out, and she could see the frustration build as his jaw twitched. 

“No explanation? How about this -- do you have a reason why you felt compelled to walk back in and stomp all over the good life we’ve made here at the Wyrm? There’s nothing for you here, Betty. You’re alive, you look healthy. That’s enough. I’ll let your mother know you came by. Now go home.” 

“Jesus, Jug, come on –“, she could hear Joaquin call out beside her. 

“What? You know – I can’t act like I don’t give a shit you’re here. I’m pissed. I’m livid. I’m fucking _raging_ inside, Betty. I don’t even want to say your name anymore. It’s been free from my vocabulary for nearly ten years. I don’t know why you’re here. You’re the last person I want to see, the last person I want in my bar.” He inched closer to her, but she refused to back down, refused to allow him to back her into a corner. 

“Whatever your intent, you can forget it. You’re not welcome here. Get the Hell out of my bar.” 

She could see his fists were clenched, thick white knuckles that looked scarred and bony. She tilted her chin up at him, that stubborn Cooper pride coming out to play. 

“Jughead,” she spoke, loud and clear, “I’m not here to start a fight and I’m not here to dig up old bones with you. I’m here for Polly.” Betty took a deep breath and continued, “She’s gotten herself into, well, an interesting predicament and I need…. I need the help of the Serpents to get her out.” 

Jughead scoffed, stepping back away from her. “You’ve got to be fucking joking right now. You come all the way back here and that’s what you want – our fucking help? Do you have any idea the brand of hurt you caused this club when you took off? Do you realize the mess you left for the people you abandoned when you walked out that door? You’re not a dumb person, Betty. Yet somehow you still expect us to get on our knees and bow down to you?” 

“No, I can see that’s your job. It’s obvious you have some kind of pull now here. They will take what you say as holy writ. All I need is a sit down to discuss the situation, talk about options. They can all say no. You can say no. Just hear me out.” She added for formality and apology a soft “please.” 

Jughead stood in place, looking her up and down with those penetrating angry blue eyes. He inched toward her, step by step, his brows so furrowed they had nearly become one. “And what makes you think I want to help you? What makes you think I would put my men, put my own life on the line for you anymore?” He was now so close to her she could feel the heat of his breath, smell the linger of cigarette smoke on the leather lapels of his jacket. “My life is my own now, Betty. I don’t owe you anything.” 

She closed her eyes, fear beginning to pool in her toes and travel up, but she willed herself to stay focused and fight. She needed help. For Polly. For herself. The lines began to blur. She knew the best way to get through that hard line he had built up would be to apologize, be vulnerable. And never give up. 

“Jughead, I’m sorry for all of the pain I put you through, the danger or suffering I put the club under. That was pretty much the opposite of my intent. I don’t know how I can make up for the damage I did, but I can start with an apology and that’s what I’m offering.” She looked up into his eyes. The direct approach was the best approach. “You know I wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t imposition you, if I wasn’t truly worried about Polly’s safety.” 

She could see the subtlest of expressions shoot across his face – intrigue and confliction. Jughead knew Polly was one of Betty’s biggest weaknesses, her loyalty to her sister nearly palpable, but to bring Betty back into this den of snakes where she knew she would be unwanted must have meant that Polly needed serious help. 

He looked away, afraid that the green plea in her eyes would peel back the hardened exterior he had crafted so well over the last several years. “What happened with Polly?” 

“She’s with the Ghoulies. She’s dating Jason Blossom.” 

Jughead turned back to face her, the hard lines on his face more tense than ever. “Are you sure? Alic—“ 

“My mother doesn’t know,” she explained, cutting him off. “I came home to tell her.” 

“This isn’t your home, Betty.” Jughead exhaled, taking a step back away from her, away from the intoxicating scent of lilies and vanilla – a concoction that still haunted him. “But you can stay here tonight, at least until we figure out this mess with Polly.” His eyes bore into hers, his message intent and stern. “We’ll put it to a vote tomorrow, but don’t expect a full approval. I’m sure not everyone will be as thrilled as Joaquin to see you’ve returned.” He shot a dirty glance at his friend who had migrated behind the bar sometime during their confrontation. 

Jughead stalked off, slamming the barn door to the outside and disappearing somewhere around the front of the bar. 

Betty let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Remembering Joaquin was still present, she turned to see him standing behind the bar with a bottle of vodka in his hand, his brow quirked in offer. 

“You want?” 

She considered it but shook her head. “No thanks, Quin. I need a clear head if I’m going to see my mother. But keep the vodka handy. It may become necessary.” 

Behind them, the rumble of two motorcycles came to a stop just short of the bar door. Betty pivoted around and watched as a tall man and woman with brown and pink hair entered the bar, their Serpent cuts draped over their torsos. 

The man, towering beyond 6’0”, sauntered into the room, giving her a once over before passing her and heading straight for the bar. He had dark hair, much like Jughead’s, unruly and wild, but his skin was far more tan, almost with an air of Native American ancestry. From what she could see, his eyes were dark brown, and there was a tattoo on his neck – a pea pod, slit open down the front to expose three peas, an angry smirk on the face of each one. 

The man’s own face was almost just as cross, but he perked up after Joaquin set a cold bottle of Budweiser in front of him. The man ripped the top of the bottle off with a sharp twist of his wrist and drank deep. 

The woman, on the other hand, was much shorter but the danger that she exuded seemed far less conspicuous. She was smiling, but it almost seemed cunning, calculated. It was closer to the smirk of a cat before pouncing on an unsuspecting canary, and she leered at Betty, her eyes slow as they moved up and down over the blonde’s curves. 

“Welcome back, Betty. Looks like shit’s about to get shaken up around here.” 

The woman circled her and licked her lips before joining the man at the bar, where she was also greeted with a bottle of beer. 

Betty looked perplexed, swiveling around to approach her. “Do we know each other?” 

The woman tipped the bottle back and brought it back down to the counter, the disconnect of her lips and the bottle rim making a soft popping noise. Betty could see the man beside her had roused at the sound of her name. 

“I guess you don’t know me, but I know you. You’re the one person we’re not allowed to ask about here in this bar.” The woman turned to face Betty, her hazel eyes aglow with mischief. “So naturally I know everything about you. You’re Jughead’s former old lady, the one who abandoned him after a gang attack and took off in the night. That’s some pretty calculated shit, duchess. I’m impressed.” 

“But how did you know that was me?” 

“There’s a picture of you in Alice’s room. She told me your name, told me your history with Jug. When our prince isn’t around to hear, Alice gets quite chatty about her daughters.” 

Betty looked down at her feet, not quite sure how to respond. 

“So do I get to know your name?”

The woman’s eyebrows lifted, her face erupting into a flirtatious grin. “Do you want to know it? Though I bet I could make you forget your own in a matter of seconds.” 

“Down, Toni,” Joaquin warned before looking back at his blonde friend. “Betty, this is Toni, one of the Serpents. Don’t worry, she doesn’t bite.” 

“There are much better things I can do with my mouth instead.” 

“Lay off, Toni,” the man beside her grunted, polishing off his beer and signaling to Joaquin that he wanted a second. As the fresh beer replaced the old, he continued, “We all know she’s spoken for and she’s trouble.” He looked at Betty, his face unapologetic. “No offense.” 

Betty put her hands on her hips, a bit confused by his hostility. “I’m not quite sure what I did to you, but believe me when I say I take no offense. Words can’t hurt me if I don’t know who they come from.” 

She detected the hint of the smirk on the man’s face and he cleared his throat. “You’ve got spunk. I can sort of see the appeal now. I’m Sweet Pea, Jug’s right hand man. I’m here to protect him from danger,” he said pointedly. “Any kind that shows up at this bar.” 

“Well, Sweet Pea, rest assured I’m not here to stir up trouble. Joaquin, do you know where my mother is?” 

“She went to run an errand about an hour ago. She should be back any minute now. You can go back to her bedroom if you want to want,” he answered. “It’s still the same since, well –“ _Before you left._

“Got it. Thanks Quin. I’ll catch you in a bit. Toni, Sweet Pea, it was… _pleasant_ to meet you.” 

She broke away from their gathering and made her way down the side hall, stopping at one of the bedrooms near the hall’s end. She recognized the scent just outside the door as one that belonged to her mother, a faint mingling of vanilla musk and jasmine. Her mother had always been an incredibly feminine woman. 

As Betty pushed back the door to her mother’s bedroom, she realized not much had really changed in the last ten years. There were small adjustments, her mother’s annual attempts at freshening up her style with little added touches, but for the most part everything remained the same. Her dresser was still decorated with fresh flowers and her perfume bottles. Her bedspread was the same light purple handmade quilt her mother had made just after Polly had left for college. Her bedside table was still embellished with photos of the three Cooper woman, and the one frame that contained a photo of Hal, taken a year before he was killed. 

Betty paced around the room, inhaling her mother’s scent as she stared at the multitude of pictures that decked the walls. There was a photo of her and Polly at one of Polly’s cheerleading meets, another of Alice embracing her own mother just months before Betty’s grandmother had passed. There was an old photo of Alice when she was a teenager, surrounded by members of the Serpents, FP standing beside her with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Almost in pure reflection, the picture framed beside it was one of Betty and Jughead, 17 years old at their senior prom, arms wrapped around each other as they stood decked out in their formal attire. The faces in both photos were lit up with smiles, wide and genuine and happy. 

“Betty!” 

She turned to see her mother standing in the doorway, frozen in shock with a wide grin on her face. “What are you doing here?” 

Betty rushed to greet her mother, wrapping her in a tight hug. When they parted, Betty clutched her mother’s arms and she looked her up and down, astonished. 

“Mom, you look great!” 

“Thank you, Betty.” Her mother blushed lightly. The two women settled on the side of Alice’s bed. “I guess time can be a kind mistress after all. So what are you doing here? Not that I’m not incredibly happy to see you, of course.” 

“I came for Polly.” Betty’s face became more somber, the happy grin replaced with a mixture of apprehension and sadness. “I have some upsetting news, mom.” 

Her mother’s manicured brow came together. “I’m listening, Elizabeth.” 

Betty took a slow inhale, preparing herself to spill the details. “Polly’s with Jason Blossom. She’s been living with him and the Ghoulies for several months now.” 

She watched as the color in her mother’s face began to drain. Alice reached out and grabbed her hand in shock. “Are you positive?” 

Betty nodded. “Yes. She says she’s happy, but I’m worried about her, mom. The Ghoulies are dangerous, especially the Blossoms. She keeps saying Jason is taking good care of her, but I have a hard time believing that. We know what they can do.” Betty felt the sting of tears gather at her eyelids. “Mom, how could she even be near them after what they did to dad? After all of the violence she’s seen growing up here at the Wyrm? I just can’t believe she could just let all of that go.” 

“Well, honey, you know Polly has always had a flair for drama. You remember what she was like back in high school. It was so hard to keep her under control without your father here.” 

“Yeah, but this is different.” 

Alice held back her own tears as she tried to consider an alternative explanation. “Are you sure this isn’t just a phase? She’s prone to those.” 

“I don’t know. She said she’s in love with him. She seems pretty serious about starting a future with Jason. She’s convinced they’re going to get engaged.” 

Alice’s eyes crinkled together as they released a few simple tears. “I just can’t believe this. My sweet little Polly.” 

“Mom,” Betty interrupted. “I came back because I’m going to get her back. I’m going to take the Serpents with me and I’m going to talk some sense into her. She can’t think this is acceptable. She can’t think this is safe for her or for us.” 

Alice shot her a sideways glance. “And how do you expect to get the Serpents to help you?” 

Betty felt her stomach wriggle with nerves. “I talked to Jughead. He said he’s going to put it to a vote tomorrow. I’m going to do my damnedest to make a good argument. I just can’t sit here and wait for something horrible to happen to my sister. There has to be some blood that’s not spoiled between Jughead and me.” 

Alice pursed her lips together in doubt. “I’d just make sure it’s a good argument, Betty. Don’t lean too hard on the prospect of harmony between you and the Serpents.” 

Betty took a beat, staring down at her feet and the soft carpet of Alice’s bedroom. “Was it really that bad when I left? Apparently my name has been banished from the bar.” 

Her mother nodded softly. “I’m afraid so. Jughead was pretty angry when you took off. I’m just saying it would be wise to have a back-up plan, that’s all. I’ll talk to FP, see if he can help.” 

Betty nodded and gripped her mother’s hand reassuringly. “I’m going to get our girl back, mom. Whatever I need to do, we’ll figure it out.” 

Alice smiled and cupped her daughter’s face with her other hand. She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. “It’s good to have you back, baby. You’re staying for dinner, correct?” 

“Yes. Jughead actually told me I could stay tonight, at least until we figure out the plan with Polly.” 

“Hmm. Well, I’ll go ahead and make up your bed then, get your room ready for you. Why don’t you join me in the kitchen in a half hour? You can help me prepare dinner.” 

Betty smiled at her mother’s instruction. She was back – her mother was already putting her to work and everything was beginning to feel like it had all of those years ago. 

She could only hope she could recreate some of that past with Jughead if she was going to get any kind of help with her sister. 

Betty followed her mother out of Alice’s room and they split up, her mother in the direction of her old bedroom and Betty back in the direction of the main room. She felt a catch-up with Joaquin was warranted. All of this news of banished words and bad blood made her realize she may need an ally in her corner, and she needed to build a strategy that would maximize compliance on Jughead’s end. 

There was also the simple fact that she had missed her other best friend, his simple toothy grin and wild black hair a reminder of all of the years they were apart. 

Betty found Joaquin cleaning up behind the bar, discarding the beer bottles left behind by Sweet Pea and Toni, both of whom had disappeared much to her relief. Betty settled onto a bar stool and fiddled with her fingernails while waiting for Joaquin’s attention. 

“What’s going on, Betty?” He reached for a rag and began to clean the bar in swirling motions. 

“Quin… I know you’ll be honest with me. How bad did it get when I left? What kind of future confrontations do I have to look forward to?” 

Joaquin sighed, setting down the rag. He stepped in front of her and leaned in casually. 

“Shit was pretty bad, Betty – I’m not going to sugar coat it for you. The morning he found out you had left, Jughead’s wound had opened back up and he had to be rushed to the hospital. They did the best they could to patch him up, but when he came back from the ER he was a changed man. His boyish charm was gone and he was bit hardened, I think, by the whole experience. Honestly, I think he was kind of pissed we took him to the hospital. He didn’t seem to care too much that he was bleeding out.” 

Betty winced, the guilt beginning to overwhelm her brain. 

“When he came back, he and I had a heart to heart. He was really broken up, Betty. Really bad shit. He even threatened to leave the Serpents at one point, which really pissed his dad off, but Jughead ended up staying. He got really sucked into the club, putting himself in some dangerous fucking situations. It’s like he had lost his head. FP ended up having a sit down with him. Told him to get his shit together or pack up and move out. That sort of flipped a switch and Jughead’s been on the straight and narrow ever since, pure tunnel vision when it comes to club business, never straying too far into anything that could get the Serpents into trouble.” 

Joaquin shot her a glance, could see how hard she was taking the news. He knew she needed the whole truth, though, so he continued. 

“Anytime anyone brought up your name, he got violent. It pretty much became law that you were forbidden from any topic in this bar. Even if someone talked shit about you, they were greeted with Jug’s fist.” The thought almost made Betty smile, but she pushed that flicker of hope aside. 

“Eventually, things got better. Jughead continued to steer the club into more legitimate settings, and the rivalry with the Ghoulies had calmed a bit, more so because of Jug’s hesitancy to retaliate against their little shit dick taunts. You broke his heart, though, Betty, and I don’t think he knows anymore what it’s like to have one. I mean, he hasn’t been a complete monster or anything like that. But his emotions stay locked away. He’s still my best friend but he’s not the same easy-going rascal that we used to hang with. He’s more focused, more interested in business rather than pleasure.” 

Joaquin hesitated, then continued. “I have to tell you, though, since you asked for the whole truth, that he hasn’t been completely alone through all of this. There have been a few girls. Nothing more serious than a couple months together apiece, but he’s definitely put the work in trying to cleanse himself of your memory.” 

That fact shouldn’t hurt so much, but it did, stinging along the edges of her heart like the nick of a blade. “I suppose that’s not entirely surprising. I can’t expect him to stick around and remain celibate forever.” 

Joaquin tilted his head in question. “Is that something you would have wanted, anyway? Would that really have been fair?” 

She exhaled quickly. “I guess not. And I’ve been with other men since Jughead. I guess it just kind of makes it more real when you hear it from a friend.” 

“I mean, if it makes you feel better, I don’t think it went beyond anything more than a few dates and some late night booty calls, but yeah – Jughead definitely worked on sowing his wild oats.” 

She took a moment. “Maybe you should get that vodka out after all.” 

Joaquin chuckled and pulled the bottle off of the shelf and grabbed two glasses. “So tell me about your last ten years. What the Hell have you been up to?” 

Betty quirked her eyebrow. “My mother didn’t tell you on one of those occasions where Jughead wasn’t around?” She referred back to Toni’s earlier comment. 

“Nah, out of loyalty to Jughead, or mostly just to keep him safe since it seemed like he really needed a friend in his corner, I tried to keep out of your business. I didn’t want Jughead thinking he couldn’t trust me.” 

“It would have been nice to have you as my friend too, Joaquin.” 

“Well, maybe the next time you feel like ghosting, you’ll let me know so I can have an idea of what side to be on.” 

Betty winced again. “I deserved that. I really am sorry, Joaquin. I didn’t mean to abandon you too.” 

“But you did. The sad thing is that you didn’t even realize you had. Your only focus was on yourself and Jughead.” He slid a vodka soda in front of her, an extra twist of a lime along the rim. 

“Quin, you know that’s not entirely true. My issue was never with you, and that’s why you weren’t my focus. I see now that was a mistake and I really am sorry. Truly. You were one of my best friends, my confidante. I’ve missed you all of these years.” 

Joaquin took a second, investigating his own drink before bringing it up to take a sip. “It’s okay, Betty. I accept your apology. I missed you too. Now, please, tell me what’s been going on with your life. Besides this Polly business, of course. I’ll hear more about that at the vote. Right now, I want to dish.” 

He leaned in further and folded his hands together in anticipation. His eyebrows wiggled. 

Betty laughed softly. “Well, as you heard, I went to college for four years. Got my degree and started working for a local paper there doing some investigative journalism. I really enjoyed the work, loved the networking aspect and learning all of the angles I could work to get information. I met a few people and made some friends, had a nice little apartment with a beautiful view of the city. I spent time in the mountains, learned that I loved to hike. I even considered getting a pet for a while, but something just felt off. Life was too… quiet. Then I heard from Polly and got this news about Jason Blossom. The last ten years of my perfect calm life came crashing down and I realized I had to come back. I gathered up my shit, hopped in this old pick-up I bought and restored, and came back here to drink vodka with you.” 

She ended the story with a small smile and he reached out to grab her hand. “I’m so glad you’re back, sweetheart. But I’m sorry you had to say goodbye to what you built. It sounds like you set up a pretty good life for yourself.” 

She nodded, swallowing back the lump that was beginning to form at the sight of sincerity in his eyes. “Yeah, it was pretty wonderful. But I can see now it was beginning to look a little dull, like the shine I had worked so hard on was starting to wear off. I think I needed a little shaking up. Granted, I didn’t want it to be at my sister’s expense, but maybe it’s good I come back for a bit, remember who I used to be.” 

“Maybe remember who you still are, too?” 

Betty topped his hand with her own and gripped it lightly. “How have you always been so wise?” 

He leaned back and shrugged casually. “It’s a gift.” 

Betty pulled off the lime from her glass, squeezing the juice into her glass. “So what about you? No love life drama of your own to report?” 

Joaquin shook his head. “Not quite. It’s hard being the only gay Serpent in town. Unless you count Toni, which I never do. She’s more monster than man. She’ll fuck just about anything with legs.” 

Betty grinned, fingering the rind of the lime. “What about Kevin? What happened there? Last I heard, you two were going strong.” 

Joaquin’s mouth drooped a bit, his face more sober. “We ended it a couple years back. He couldn’t handle that I wasn’t out of the closet beyond the walls of the Wyrm, and I just couldn’t take the pressure. We had some good history, so we parted well, but we ended nonetheless.” 

Betty watched as his expression changed. “Are you okay with that?” 

Joaquin shrugged his shoulders coolly. “I guess. It is what it is. If it wasn’t meant to be, I have to accept that. I’ve gotten my fair share of tail here and there, but love’s definitely not on the forefront of my mind. Keeping Jughead alive has pretty much been my first priority. He’s gotten better, though. I’m grateful for that.” 

“Well let’s just hope I don’t kick too much shit up then. I’d hate to break down the walls he’s so meticulously built up for himself.” 

Joaquin chuckled. “Honey, forget the walls – there are some demons that would need to be exorcised for him to let his guard down again. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” 

She sighed. “I didn’t come here for that, Joaquin. I came for Polly. I’m not here to make waves.” 

He eyed her, watching as she swirled her drink around aimlessly. “Sure, hon. Whatever you say.” 

///////

**Scene Three**

So she came back. 

_Finally. Unfortunately._

Jughead was perched on his desk chair, tilted back with a cigarette in between his fingers, the smoke curling toward the open window next to him. He took a hefty drag, the burn of the tobacco smothering the scream that was building in his lungs. He brought his legs up to rest on the desk top, his eyes closed in contemplation as he fought to meditate. 

It had been a simple practice he had tried to start a few years ago, after his father had threatened to kick him out of the Serpents and the Whyte Wyrm. Jughead had been harboring so many angry black thoughts, he knew then that he needed an outlet that would help him keep his Serpent status – _keep his sanity._

It had been nearly ten years, a decade of aching loneliness and bitter resentment, since Betty Cooper had walked out of his life, fled in the night like a cowardly phantom. With his eyes closed, he could almost picture her packing up her life’s possessions in a single suitcase, desperate to leave his bedside without waking him. _Without him finding out. Without him stopping her._

The image stirred his stomach and he tasted acid mixed with the smoke. 

His feet, clad in thick black biker boots, uncrossed and slid off the desk as he leaned forward. Reaching into one of the side drawers, he retrieved a leather-bound notebook, a pen attached to a thin strip of brown fabric that dangled from the binding. He opened the journal to a start a fresh entry, reaching up first to take another drag and dispose of the ash on the tip of his cigarette in the crystal dish beside him. 

He began to pen the morning’s events, his thoughts of Betty clouding his words. Though he could admit the thought of her never strayed far from his mind, even in these past ten years, she haunted him now like never before. The sight of her in the bar, twirling in Joaquin’s arms with that brief hint of glee, felt like a swift punch in the ribs – acute and shocking. When they had locked eyes, the familiar shine of her emerald green visible even from across the room, he could have sworn he heard a gunshot. 

The worst fucking thing was how beautiful she still looked. Time had spared no favor on her features, the little things about her appearance merely enhanced with age. Her blonde hair had gotten longer, her eyes more wide and doe-eyed, her skin mesmerizing as if she had taken the silken curves from her youth and doused them in cream. Her breasts had grown, even, a fact he couldn’t escape, and her legs had lengthened, leading to a junction that he could only imagine tasted even sweeter than it had when they were teenagers. 

The thought of her naked now beneath him, calling his name, infuriated him. 

He should be hating her right now, hating her for the rest of his life. She had walked out on him, walked out on the memories they had shared and the life they were just starting to build. He still recalled the way he had felt when Alice had told him Betty had left in the night, the humiliation before the total numbness as he scrambled to find any trace of her out in the Whyte Wyrm parking lot, her car and its tracks long gone in the dust. 

He had wanted to die, that he could remember starkly. As he had bled out from his stitches, watching the red of his blood soak the pure white dressing over his wound, he thought only of how he wished it were the first sign of impending death. 

Now, he just saw it as a metaphor – the pure white innocence of their love tainted by the violent affiliation with the club and her insecurities of their future together. 

Both had nearly cost him his life, both of them causing him more ache than he had ever felt before. After all of this time, the hurt replaced the happiness he once felt, those moments of joy so far distant they were almost nonexistent. 

That’s how he had been coping with her gone, pushing her further and further out of his mind until she had become a tiny speck driving off down the highway. Now that she had walked back into his life, it was like she was behind the wheel of an 18-wheeler, marking his body with the tracks of every single tire. 

He knew this business with Polly was nasty stuff. Her involvement with the Ghoulies spelled trouble for all parties involved, Serpents and Coopers alike. There was a great part of him that wanted to help her out, wanted to throw every single one of his men behind the effort to procure Betty’s sister from the disgusting paws of Jason Blossom. However, pride, as it often did, had gotten in the way and he found his brows bunching in frustration as his anger for Betty returned. 

How could she be so flippant, casually walking back into his home, asking for his help, when she had just as carelessly left him behind in the dust? No phone calls, no texts, no postcards. Hell, no emails. No contact for the last ten years. Though he knew she wasn’t really dead, expected that Alice would have painfully given that fact away had it been true, there was a part of Jughead that wished she was. 

It wasn’t that he wished her physical harm. He could admit that even now he would do what he could to protect her safety, but the memory of her and the tether they held was forever disrupting his ability to move on, and all he wished was a chance to have a life that didn’t involve waking up in cold sweats, reaching out for a body in his bed that wasn’t there. 

Jughead punctuated the entry in his journal with a hard dot of his pen. Everything about today sucked. He cursed himself for the bubbling of joy he felt when he heard her voice. God, how he had missed the sound of her voice. He had missed how it had sounded when she said his name, harshly reminded when she had uttered “Jug” earlier in the bar. He missed the way she smelled, the way she smiled, the way she laughed when something genuinely touched her heart. 

He missed her. 

He smashed the lit end of his cigarette into the ashtray with a little more vigor than he intended. 

He didn’t know what the Hell he was going to do now that Betty Cooper had steamrolled herself back into his life. 

///////

**Scene Four**

The next morning, Betty pulled out of the parking lot of the Whyte Wyrm, her front seat loaded with a satchel filled with canvas grocery bags that her mother had gifted her with, along with a hefty list of provisions necessary for the following week. Alice had put her in charge of grocery shopping, along with an itemized list of odds and ends located at the hardware shop in the strip mall across from the local grocer. Betty had been looking for an excuse to explore the town for a bit. She had expected that after ten years there had to be a part of the Southside that had improved. 

Truthfully, Betty was also happy to get out of the bar itself for a bit, the tension between her and Jughead evident even when he wasn’t in the room. Unfortunately, the gang had business in town as well, and they were departing behind her in a formation of gears and metal. 

She could hear the rumbling of their engines behind her, the switching of gears as they sped up behind her, flanking the old pick-up. From her rearview mirror, she could spot Jughead riding in the front, the second in command picking up the slack for the absentee president. 

Jughead wore his standard leather jacket and she pitied him as he rode beneath the blaring hot summer sun. She supposed he was used to the heat under the leather, almost like a second skin. His hair, trapped beneath a tortoise-shaped black helmet with a crown etched on the front, was rebellious as usual, a few loose tendrils sneaking out from beneath the head gear. He wore shades for eye protection, but she could feel him watching her through the clear pane of glass in her back window. His mouth was firm and set into a hard line, but she couldn’t tell if that was because of her or the usual expression he wore when he was in charge. 

They turned into the town square, a small plot of land surrounded by three different rows of shops centered on the large local grocery store. The boys and Toni parked their bikes in front of a pawn shop and Betty parked the truck across the street in the grocery store lot. She thought she’d run over to the hardware store first, grab the required items from her mother’s list, before swinging by for the food on her way out. There were several cold items on her mother’s list and she didn’t want them to spoil. 

Inside the hardware store, Betty found an old high school colleague working the register. She and Ginger caught up on old business, discussing their post-high school plans, comparing how many of them had actually followed through. As Betty was leaving, a bag of screws, plumber’s tape, and a brand new hammer tucked into a canvas bag under her arm, she overheard Sweet Pea coming out of a nearby shop. 

He was rambling on to Toni and Jughead behind him, grumbling about some rip-off they had gotten from the gun store owner named Dilton. They came out empty-handed, but Jughead held a yellow receipt of purchase. Betty had a feeling the bar would be getting a delivery soon of the semiautomatic variety, one not typically exchanged on the street. 

She waved to them when they spotted her and Toni waved back, the only one somewhat gracious enough to acknowledge her presence. Betty approached and was about to speak when she saw the threesome snap their heads in the other direction, watching as four motorcycles rolled up next door. They were led by a man with a gaunt looking face, framed with tight black curls and peppered with a light dusting of facial hair above his upper lip. He had a permanent sneer printed onto his face. 

Behind him on his bike was a redheaded female, her face expressionless but absolutely stunning. Her clothing was a bit risqué for someone riding on the back of a motorcycle, but she didn’t seem fazed, easily dismounting from the bike in a short red mini skirt. She faced Betty and the Serpents, peeling back her heart shaped sunglasses. Her eyes immediately locked on Toni’s, a light flutter of a smile on her cherry red lips. Next to Betty, Sweet Pea spat on the ground. 

“Blossom bitch.” 

The man with the curly hair approached them, leading the pack, each of them suited up in a denim cut with the familiar freakish logo of the Ghoulies that Betty dreaded. Immediately, her shoulders stiffened, sensing trouble. 

“Jones,” he acknowledged. “Doing a little shopping today?” 

Jughead’s face was stern, his tone terse. “What do you want, Malachi?” 

“No need for the hot head. We just came by to pick up a new shipment of guns.” A flash of surprise danced across Jughead’s brow and Malachi’s smirk grew. “What? You thought you were the only ones Doiley was selling to? He’s got some real nice shit for us. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get the chance to see just what they can do.” 

Next to Jughead, Sweet Pea flexed, stepping up to confront Malachi. “Keep talking and you’ll walk out of here with a busted nose too, free of charge.” 

Malachi’s lip twisted up in a smirk, sizing Sweet Pea up and down. “Jones, tell your whipping boy here to back down. Ghoulies don’t do well with threats.” 

“And neither do Serpents, Malachi,” Jughead responded. The air between the two gangs grew thick, egged on by the stifling heat of the sun above. “Why don’t you get back on your bikes and get the Hell out of here. We’ve got business to attend to and we don’t need any trouble.” 

“Oh, that’s right – the righteous prince setting the standard for all biker morality. What happened to you? I remember the good ol’ days when you had balls. You were a lot more fun to beat then.” 

Sweet Pea stepped forward again, trying to put distance between Jughead and Malachi, but the latter was quick, exposing the holster on the inside of his cut with a .45 mm handgun tucked inside. 

“Let’s keep a cool head, fella. It be a shame to blow it off.” 

“I’d like to see you fucking try.” 

“You can’t see without a head. I don’t miss.” 

“Sweet Pea,” Jughead muttered, a stern warning in his tone. Immediately, the tall biker backed off, inching back to stand behind Jughead. Though he heeded his instruction, he cracked his knuckles, itching for a fight. 

“Come on, Jug. Let me take a crack at him. This fucker deserves it.” 

Malachi sneered, his hand inching closer to the handle of the gun. “Yeah, _Jug,_ let your boy have a little fun. I guarantee it’ll be entertaining.” 

“Just because I told him to stand down doesn’t mean I’d be above kicking your skinny ass right here in town square. We have things to do, though, and a beef with you is not on my list of important shit right now.” He leaned in to whisper just inches from Malachi’s face. “But later if you’re looking for some fun, you know where to find me. I’ve got a couple of bullets just _dying_ to meet you.” 

Malachi waited, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he considered taking the first swing. He thought better, instead gesturing for the other Ghoulies to follow him into the gun shop. Toni held up a middle finger as they each passed by, a smirk painted over her lips. 

She turned to see the redhead leaning against a parking meter, watching her with keen eyes. The girl pushed off of the meter and began to approach, following the Ghoulies into the shop. When she was a few feet from Toni, the biker puckered her lips out and blew the redhead a kiss. “Hey there gorgeous.” 

The girl stopped and grinned at Toni, checking her out with an up and down motion of her eyes. With a sway of her hips that clearly said “eat your heart out,” the girl continued moving forward, following the men into the gun shop. She shot Toni one last look from behind her shoulder before disappearing. 

“Cheryl Blossom,” Toni explained to Betty next to her. 

“I didn’t know Jason had a sister.” 

“They’re twins, but you wouldn’t know it, save for the red hair and ruthless attitude. I’ve been trying to get with that gash for months now.” Toni licked her lips. “I bet her bush looks like fire.” 

Betty shook her head in disbelief. “Even in a heated confrontation, you’re thinking about sex?” 

“You see her. She’s fucking dynamite. The fact that she won’t let me have her makes the chase that much more exciting.” 

“Whatever, Toni.” Betty looked at Jughead, watching the way he assessed the street for any further Ghoulie presence. She was surprised with how well he had held back from lashing out at Malachi. The Jughead she knew had always been so quick to jump, reacting before thinking. Maybe he really had changed. 

“Finish your shopping, Betty, so we can go.” 

“Jughead, I don’t need an escort. If you all want to go back to the Wyrm, you can take off.” 

“I don’t give a shit what you need. The Ghoulies are looking to stir up shit and I’m going not letting you stay here unarmed. You’ll finish your shopping and we’ll be on the lookout out here.” 

Betty sighed, knowing it was pointless to argue with him when tensions were already high. She crossed the street over to the grocery store, first dropping her bag of hardware off in the back of the pickup. Across the street, she watched as Jughead leaned against his bike, his eyes intent on scouting out her every move. Though she knew he was honor-bound to protect her, that inner part of his brain refusing to put anyone close in harm’s way, she couldn’t deny it gave her the slightest spark of hope. 

///////

**Scene Five**

The gang had rolled into the lot in front of the bar, parking their bikes next to the entrance, each turning the handlebars with a swift angle to keep them upright. As they each dismounted, setting their helmets on top of their bike seats, they pushed each other around in playful aggression, their rabble complete with the mixture of expletives that hung in the air. 

Betty pulled into the lot with her truck filled with groceries. During the drive back from town square, she thought about the scene she had just witnessed and the implication of what could have happened if the Serpents had taken the bait. 

Ten years had passed but the violence was still the same. Betty knew she would never be able to escape it if she stayed here. There was a part of her that wanted to believe because Jughead had changed, the gun fights and the blood shed had lessened – and though perhaps the _physical_ shows of aggression had declined, it seemed the hatred itself between the Ghoulies and the Serpents had only escalated, a simple battle of words nearly ending in bullets. She could remember the way her shoulders tensed up when Malachi had pulled back the denim of his cut to reveal his gun. 

This wasn’t a game and those bullets were real – and they had real consequences. 

The thought of Jughead taking one for his gang had her stomach twisted in knots. The threat was real, no matter where she went or what she did. She felt foolish now, thinking that this entire time when she had been gone she had kept him safe, when truthfully she had left him open and vulnerable to danger. 

Jughead had agreed earlier to set up a meeting time tonight for all of the Serpents to gather and discuss this matter about Polly. It involved the Ghoulies, which directly involved the Serpents, so she knew she had that angle to work. There was also the value of history, and though there were new Serpents in the den, she had the comfort of familiar members like Joaquin, FP, and Tall Boy to hopefully consider allies. 

Though it didn’t involve bullets or fists, Betty knew she still needed to gear up for a fight. 

///////

**Scene Six**

After carrying in the final load of groceries, Sweet Pea and Joaquin found themselves posted up at the bar, sucking down ice cold beer in the air conditioned space of the Whyte Wyrm. 

“That sun’s a bitch,” Sweet Pea grumbled between pulls. Joaquin lifted the base of the beer bottle and pressed it lightly against his forehead, trying to catch the beads of condensation that dripped. 

“That shit today was intense. You know you need to keep your cool better when you get around those assholes.” 

Sweet Pea groaned, annoyed. “You know how I get, Joaquin. Those dickbags are scum.” 

“I mean, you’re not wrong. It’s just incredibly important right now that we keep Jughead in line.” 

Sweet Pea turned his head to the side, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” 

Joaquin sighed, removing the bottle from the side of his forehead to take a swig. “I’m just saying he’s probably going to have a lot to deal with for a while –“

“You mean now that his old broad is here.” 

Joaquin nodded. “Yeah, exactly. Betty and Jughead – they have a pretty intense history.” 

Sweet Pea shrugged casually, though his curiosity was peaked. “I mean, uh, what happened between them?” 

Joaquin considered another drink before he continued, setting his beer bottle down on the counter top. “They were best friends as kids, all three of us were actually. Betty showed up with her mom and sister after their father was murdered in a car bomb, set up by the Ghoulies. Apparently, Alice used to be a Serpent when she was a teen and she grew up with FP. They came here looking for shelter and Betty and Jughead just clicked. They were pretty much inseparable as kids and eventually things got hot and heavy.” He exhaled slowly. “They were the real deal, really attached at the hip. We all thought they were going to end up together, running this place like some sort of biker king and queen. But one night Jughead got into a scuffle with the Ghoulies, ended up stabbed and bleeding out. When he was asleep on pain killers, Betty left in the middle of the night and hasn’t been back since.” 

“Damn,” Sweet Pea shook his head. “That’s cold-blooded.” 

“Yeah, but she had her own reasons. Jughead was more reckless back then. He was more apt to go off without thinking. It caused a lot of drama, some pretty bad shit. That’s why his old man had to step in. Jug’s a lot more focused now on keeping the peace. We need to keep him set on that before he lets any of this dark past shit get in the way.” 

Sweet Pea reached into his pocket, dug out a nearly crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He brought a cigarette to his lips, lit the end, and took a deep inhale. 

“This is why it’s better to love ‘em and leave ‘em. Or really don’t love ‘em. Just fuck ‘em.” 

Joaquin chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. “Always the charmer, Sweet Pea.” 

Sweet Pea shrugged, exhaling smoke. “It’s a curse. Sometimes, though, I think you’ve got the right idea, Quin.” He dipped the ashy tip of his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. “I bet it would be easier being with a dude.” 

Joaquin grinned, shaking his head. “That’s not quite the way it works.” 

The screech of tires echoed through the open door of the bar. The two men rotated in their seats at the sound of a car door slamming and the crunch of heels on the gravel parking lot. 

The sunlight coming in from the open doorway was blinding, but behind it a woman emerged, her hair dark as night and skin golden brown. She wore a pair of tight denim jeans, the hem riding low on her hips with a thin line of her stomach exposed under a loose fitting t-shirt knotted together in the front. Her feet were decked out in two-inch high heels and the way she walked was accentuated by a natural sway of her curvy hips. 

Sweet Pea was captivated by her face, the harsh angle of her jawline topped with dark eyebrows that framed two bold brown doe eyes. Though she looked innocent, the air about her was sophisticated, experienced, and everything about her said perfectly manicured. 

Though aware of her obvious beauty, Sweet Pea was immediately turned off. Anything that shiny and immaculately packaged didn’t belong in the Whyte Wyrm. 

“Hey babe, you lost? The mall is back down the highway another ten miles,” Sweet Pea hollered across the bar, his tone painfully obvious – _get lost._

Veronica sized him up. He was incredibly tall, a mountain of a man if you excluded his thin stature, though Veronica could tell there was muscle hidden beneath all the leather and denim. She stepped into the bar further, and his brow lifted with curiosity. 

“Well, if I were in the mood for a new Balenciaga, I wouldn’t need your help to get there. But I’m not here for shopping, surprisingly enough.” She threw her head up stubbornly. “I’m looking for Betty Cooper.” 

“You mean the boss’s girl?” Sweet Pea retorted. 

Veronica tilted the arch of her brow up to the sky. “I don’t know who your boss is, but last I checked Betty wasn’t anybody’s girl.” 

Sweet Pea clarified with a roll of his eyes, “It’s an expression.” 

She sighed openly, her physical stance becoming more impatient. “Look, if Betty Cooper isn’t here, please tell me so you can otherwise stop wasting my time.” 

Sweet Pea scoffed and next to him Joaquin’s lips pursed, trying hard to keep his composure intact. He took a sip from his drink and glanced at Sweet Pea, laughter in his eyes. 

“Fine. She’s not here. Now your time can stop being wasted, and so can mine.” Sweet Pea swiveled around in the bar seat, turning his back to the unexpected guest while his attention returned to the beer in front of him. 

Veronica huffed, her hand flying to her purse to retrieve her cell phone. Surely she wasn’t in the wrong place. Her GPS never led her astray. As she looked around, though, she admitted that she couldn’t imagine prim and perky Betty Cooper holed up in this run down road side dump. 

Just as she was about to turn heel and stomp out of the bar, the sound of Betty’s laughter came filtering out from the back entrance and the sight of her blonde best friend erased the irritation from Veronica’s face. 

When the girls locked eyes, Veronica began to trot over to Betty, her arms widening for the inevitable embrace. As she passed Sweet Pea, she shot him the middle finger, which he missed, and she muttered, “You’re a real asshat.” 

Sweet Pea turned back to Joaquin, offering up a small shrug. “You win some, you lose some,” and the two men laughed behind their beer bottles. 

“Veronica, what are you doing here?” Betty pulled back from their embrace to inspect her friend. “Not that I’m not excited to see you here.” 

“Well, B – after our last phone call, you sounded really stressed out about your sister and I wanted to be here to bring the emotional support you so desperately need. I remember you telling me you had some harsh memories of this place. Veronica Lodge is anything if not a warrior for her friends. I wanted to be available for you.” She looked around, the grimace starting to form on her face though she tried to keep it in check. “Plus, this place looks… cozy. A real ‘Sons of Anarchy’ meets ‘Cheers’ sort of vibe.” 

Betty smiled, knowing her friend was trying to hide her distaste for the Wyrm’s aesthetic. “It’s just a bar, V. And I appreciate you showing up.” 

“Of course, B. You mean the world to me.” 

Though Betty knew Veronica coming might complicate things more, another person to consider when things got hairy, she couldn’t deny that her friend’s presence helped to put her at ease. It would be smart to have another ally in the bar that didn’t involve her blood relative or another childhood best friend, both of whom were attached to the Serpents in one way or another. Veronica was an outside voice, could offer a stranger’s perspective, and had zero history with the gang. 

Betty and Veronica had met in Albany, two college girls looking for a means of escape from a past they feared. Betty had the bikers but Veronica had the mob, her father tied to all types of nefarious business with blacklisted countries and domestic terrorist groups. When she had uncovered the truth about her father’s shady dealings, Veronica knew she had to break clean from the Lodge legacy. She took the little savings she herself had earned and left the Big Apple, spending the last ten years building herself back up to the top. 

Through college, she had learned about the proper and legal way to run a business. She started her own company, an elegant and cosmopolitan lingerie line, and sales took off like a comet. Her stout sense of confidence and steadfast loyalty to who she was were qualities Betty had always admired of Veronica, and were two traits she aspired for herself. Veronica always seemed to bring out the best in Betty, furthering that drive to embrace her positive attributes and see beyond the fear that came with standing on her own two feet. Veronica, in return, admired Betty’s softer features and valued her fidelity to her family. 

Though the twosome had been separated by geography post-college, Veronica taking her fashion line to California, they had stayed in touch and were still allegiant confidantes. 

“Now,” Veronica began, surveying the area around them as Betty led them out of the back door onto the patio. “Who’s this man I hear you’re with? Is it the tall, dark, dreamy boy from your past with a penchant for violence and an intense craving for Cooper?” 

Betty sighed. “I wouldn’t say that description necessarily fits right now.” 

“Uh oh, what happened? Boy toy not thrilled to see you?” 

“You could say that. He was pretty pissed when I showed up.” 

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised. It sounds like you two have some pretty intense healing that needs to go down. It’s nothing a little gin-soaked evening under the stars can’t fix.” 

“V, I don’t think this is something that alcohol can solve. In fact, knowing how hot his temper can get, it’ll probably make things worse. What I should probably do is just focus on making sure Polly is safe. It’s pointless to sit here and obsess about old wounds that can probably never be patched up.” 

Veronica took a seat on one of the outdoor patio chairs. “Maybe it’s a little too early to make those kinds of assessments, B. Let me just see for myself what we’re working with. Lodge girls know how to work all kinds of magic.” 

Betty grinned, joining Veronica by sitting in the chair next to her. “I’m not keeping my hopes up.” 

Veronica exhaled, lounging back into the chair as if she were attempting to soak up some rays. “Fine. Now that that business is settled, tell me more about what’s going on with Polly. You mentioned something about some dangerous boyfriend but you were sparse on the deets.” 

“There’s still so much I don’t even know, Veronica. All I know is that she’s dating Jason Blossom, the son of an area drug lord that ordered the hit on my father. I just don’t understand what’s going on through her head. How can she be so trusting in someone that’s clearly tied to dangerous, hateful people? It’s almost like she’s doing it out of spite but I don’t know why. Her and my mother haven’t always had the best relationship, but they’ve never done anything worth this kind of retaliation.” 

“Well maybe her and this Jason guy really do have a genuine connection. I mean, what do you know about him? I know his father sounds like a piece of shit, but maybe the son isn’t so lethal. Look at me and my dad. He’s done some shady shit for the past forty years, but that gene skipped my generation. I want nothing to do with that nonsense.” 

“But Jason’s also a part of this gang called the Ghoulies. They’re the ones that planted the bomb in the car that killed my father. I met some of them today. Real nasty people, V. I just don’t trust it and I worry about her safety.” 

“I completely understand where you’re coming from, B. The fact that you’re so gung-ho about protecting your sister is one of the things that I love about you. I’m just trying to open up your mind to the possibility that maybe Polly isn’t in as much danger as you fear. I’d hate for you to work yourself up into such a tizzy and put yourself in a serious situation when it’s not warranted.” 

“I get it, V. I do. I think I just need more information first before we can come up with a game plan.” She took a break to catch her thoughts. “I’m supposed to meet with the club tonight. We’re going to talk about how to move forward with what we know currently about Polly. There’s a good chance they’ll tell me to handle my own shit. I’ve got to be prepared to do this on my own.” 

Veronica reached out and laid a comforting hand over hers. “Betty, you’re not alone. I came all the way from California to help you. That doesn’t mean I plan to sit on my ass and watch you drown. I’m on your side, babe. All the way.” 

Betty smiled, reaching up to take hold of Veronica’s hand. “Thanks Veronica. I really am glad that you’re here.” Looking to switch gears, Betty asked, “So are you planning to stay here at the Wyrm? I’m sure we can drum up a spare bedroom for you.” 

“I looked up a few motels on Google that were nearby. I don’t want to put you out. I certainly have no problem trading this in for a nice suite at a Super 8.” 

Betty laughed. “V, the rooms here aren’t nearly as dingy as the bar itself is. I promise I will give you the cleanest one of the bunch. It just seems silly to shack up in some motel when you’ll be here the whole time anyway.” 

Veronica shrugged, noncommittal. “I suppose you’re right. Though you’re not bunking me with that hard ass in there, are you?” 

“Sweet Pea? Nah. He’s harmless. I mean – he’s not harmless if he’s looking to kick your ass, but when it comes to wit, he’s all bark and no bite. Plus he has his own lodging here. You’ll get your own quarters, V. I’ll get it all squared away.” 

“Wonderful. Now please tell me that bar serves something other than scowls and cheap beer. I needed a martini the moment I stepped foot in this place.” 

///////

**Scene Seven**

Later that evening after the gang had finished supper, they had gathered in the main room of the bar. Each person was doing their separate thing – Betty and Veronica were tucked into a booth with a deck of playing cards, Alice was busy sweeping under the tables, Sweet Pea was occupied with polishing a set of brass knuckles, and Jughead and Joaquin were deep in conversation, throwing back draft beers as Jughead finished off a cigarette. 

There were a handful of other strangers occupying various tables around the bar, ordering drinks from one of the waitresses that walked around in a pair of black hot pants and tank top with the trademark serpent on the front. Though some of the male customers sent the waitress winks and passing remarks about the way her ass looked in her short shorts, it was Toni’s attention that she craved. The brunette fingered the pink tips of her long hair as she watched the waitress walk back and forth from table to table, gazing at her ass with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows. 

“Go fish!” Veronica exclaimed, a victorious smile on her lips. Betty reached for the draw pile and grabbed the top card. 

She was starting to get nervous, realizing her meeting with the Serpents was moments away. She had thought long and hard about how to approach her plan with the most effective outcome possible in mind. Veronica had offered her own words of wisdom and in the end, Betty was glad she had a friend there to help her strategize. There was also that little part of her that believed Jughead would still be willing to help her, that the bad blood between them could dissipate and make room for a fresh start. 

Betty was getting up to fetch her and Veronica another round of cocktails when she heard her name called out by a very familiar voice. She swiveled on her heel and saw the beaming boyish face of Kevin Keller. 

“Betty freakin’ Cooper!” He held his arms out for her as she stepped forward, wrapping each other in a tight embrace. 

“Kevin! What are you doing here at the Wyrm?” 

“What are you doing here in the Southside? And why did I have to hear about this from some rando in town? What happened to sending a text?” 

“Kevin, I’m so sorry.” She led him to her booth, gesturing for him to sit down. “I just got into town yesterday and had some business to attend to. I promise I did not mean to leave you out. I’ve just been so busy.” 

“Betty, who is this finely dressed gentleman sitting across from me in our booth?” Veronica gestured to Kevin, taking in his pressed khaki slacks and wrinkle-free cotton tee. Both of them stood out like a sore thumb from the usual clientele of the Whyte Wyrm. 

“Veronica, this is Kevin Keller, one of my oldest friends from high school. Kevin, this is Veronica. She went to SUNY with me.” 

“Ah yes, the fashionista who broke free from daddy’s money to build her own empire.” He held out a hand for her to take. “Iconic. I’m impressed. You’re so much more gorgeous than a description over the telephone.” 

“Thank you, m’dear. And trust that I’ve heard all about you and your wild sense of humor. I expect a preview this evening with drinks.” 

“I was just about to get us another round. Kevin, do you want me to get you a drink?” Betty offered. 

Kevin glanced up to the bar, butterflies beginning to take flight when he spotted Joaquin at the bar. He slid out from the booth and started crossing toward him. “You know, how about I get this round, ladies?” 

Betty smirked as she slid back into the booth, picking up on Kevin’s intentions. She shot Veronica a glance and smiled. “That’s his old flame at the bar, one of my oldest friends, Joaquin. He’s the one sitting next to Jughead.” 

“So basically what you’re saying is that we’re not going to be getting our drinks.” 

Betty laughed. “Not from Kevin.” 

And as they spotted her two male friends exchange words before disappearing back down the hallway of the bar, Betty felt a bit jealous that they could make amends so quickly. 

Staring at the back of Jughead’s head, watching as he brought his arm up to take another drink, she wondered just how long she would have to wait for reconciliation. 

///////

**Scene Eight**

They sat around a long wooden table, hands folded together in silence. Jughead stood at the helm, bent over the table as he prepared to address the crowd. Betty sat opposite of him on the other end, waiting for him to give her the green light. 

“Serpents, I’ve called you here tonight to discuss a matter that hits close to home. Shit between us and the Ghoulies has been tense for years, but right now Alice’s daughter Polly is amongst our rivals, shacking up with Jason Blossom. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue. We don’t fuck with matters of the heart and relationship bullshit here around this table. But Polly grew up here, and out of loyalty to her mother who has helped this bar for years, we owe it to her to listen to what Betty has to say. Then we vote.” 

He tipped his head to Betty and took a seat. 

Betty stood, her expression stern as she addressed the table. “I realize that it has been some time since I stood under the roof of the Whyte Wyrm, and though there are faces here I don’t recognize, I’m sure the ones I do aren’t all happy to see I’ve returned. I promise I’m not here with any other motive than to ensure my sister’s safety.” 

She inhaled deeply. “My sister Polly is dating the son of the man that murdered our father. Though she claims to be happy, everyone in this room knows what the Ghoulies are capable of. I’m not suggesting we storm the castle, but I need to find out that she isn’t in distress. The Blossoms have power and with that power comes the innate ability to manipulate. I worry that Polly is being manipulated by Jason Blossom and there will be no other way to extract her from that piece of shit than by pulling her out ourselves. If this is a fight you’re not willing to take on, I can respect that. Again, I realize with some of you there is an incredible amount of love lost after I walked out of here and left your leader blindsided.” 

She gazed up at Jughead, saw his face emotionless and blank. It had never been this hard for her to read him. 

“If I need to take care of this mess myself, I can and I will. But consider all of the madness that’s been brought to this doorstep at the hands of the Ghoulies, by the mouth of Clifford Blossom and his progeny. Don’t you feel exhausted, constantly fighting a war that has no end? We can take this opportunity to rid the Southside of this drama for good. We take back Polly, you show your strength and gain the upper hand. There’s a win for you. Polly grew up here. She’s familiar with the Serpents and she knows you will keep her safe.” 

“What makes you sure this won’t blow back on the Serpents?” 

Betty’s eyes snapped to Jughead. “I can’t promise that it won’t. But I haven’t forgotten what this group is capable of and I wouldn’t ask you all to do anything I didn’t think you could handle.” 

“And if something terrible were to occur because of your request, are you going to stick around this time to help clean up the mess?” 

She met his glare with her own, the tepid atmosphere around them quickly becoming supercharged. 

“I’m not going to cut and run.” 

“You’ve certainly made a habit of that kind of behavior before.” 

“Jug –“

“Enough. I think you’ve made your argument. It’s time to vote.” 

Five minutes later, Jughead stormed out of the back room of the Whyte Wyrm, the faces of the other Serpent members left behind decorated in various shades of solemnity. Betty was slow to follow him, willing to give him space in favor of good sportsmanship. The vote was majority rule and she knew though he himself had refrained from voting, he had been taken aback by how many of the Serpents favored her plan. 

She watched as Jughead pushed his way out of the bar door, nearly knocking into a burly bearded man that was coming in for service. The near impact didn’t seem to faze him. In fact, the anger he felt emboldened him and he sent a venomous glare at the man, daring him to challenge him. The man threw his hands up in immediate defeat and slunk out of view. 

Betty considered staying inside, joining Veronica who had relocated to the bar for a night cap. There was that undeniable pull, though, to slip outside and smooth things out with Jughead. Now that the club had voted to work with her, they would need to cooperate with each other. 

She pushed her way out of the bar, welcoming the cool breeze of the night on her skin. To her left she spotted Jughead, lighting a fresh cigarette as he paced across the concrete walkway in front of the bar. She approached with caution. 

“Jug… I’m sorry.” 

He scoffed, exhaling smoke. “What are you sorry for? You got what you wanted.” 

“You know I didn’t want this to become an all-out war between us. I just want to help Polly.” 

“Yeah, yeah – I think I’ve heard enough about Polly’s plight. You’ve said what you had to say enough times, I believe you. It just sucks that I have to be involved.” He sighed, leaning against the wall of the bar. “I don’t know if I can go through all of this again, Betty. I’m exhausted.” 

She nodded, feeling comfortable enough to take a few steps closer to where he stood. She watched as he took a deep inhale from his cigarette, his eyes locked on the clear starlit sky above them. 

“I get it, Jug. This shit between us is a lot to consume. I should have given you some sort of warning that I was coming.” 

“I’m not sure it would have helped, though it was quite the shock to see you again.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “But it’s not just this mess between us.” 

She leaned against the wall next to him. “What’s going on?” 

He sighed again, dropping his finished cigarette to the ground where he crushed it with his boot. “Shit got kind of ugly with my old man after you left. All of his drinking after my mom took off finally took its toll and he started getting a bit behind in club business. The guys don’t know this but behind the scenes I was picking up the slack. It’s funny – my dad was the one who told me to whip my ass back into shape if I was going to lead this club, and the whole time he was drowning himself in booze to escape his bullshit.” 

“Is FP still hitting the bottle?” 

“No,” Jughead exclaimed, chasing the expression with a slight scoff. “He’s gotten way better. It’s thanks to your mom, actually. Alice basically sat him down and got into his head. I don’t know what she said, but the next morning he shaved and looked the most sober I had seen him in years. He’s been clean ever since.” 

Betty looked puzzled. “Jug, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize all of this drama had occurred. I guess my mom had kept more in the dark than I had thought.” 

“I know she promised you that she wouldn’t mention my name.” 

“And I heard you did the same with the entire bar.” 

He grinned, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I guess we both have that in common. Can’t seem to face our biggest demon.” 

“Jug… you weren’t a demon for me. I just had to get some space. I guess in my own way I was exhausted. It was like life was in hyper-drive and I couldn’t handle the ride anymore.” 

His grin disappeared, his eyes moving from the sky to stare at the ground. He kicked a few pebbles on the concrete with the toe of his boot. “I guess I get that now.” 

She paused. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” 

He shot her a sideways glance and considered her words, his brow furrowed together. “I’m not sure I can. You’ve only been here two days. Nothing between us can ever come that easy.” 

This time is was Betty’s turn to nod. She knew the road wasn’t going to clear overnight between them. That would have been too simple and the feelings between them were anything but. 

Jughead pushed himself off of the wall and straddled his bike parked a few feet away. He pulled out another cigarette, but he paused before lighting it, looking up to address her. She looked so beautiful, the soft evening wind blowing the blonde wisps of her hair free from her ponytail. The fluorescent lights of the outdoor front patio brought out the green in her eyes and he watched as her nimble fingers fumbled with the belt loops of her jeans, obviously fidgeting from nerves. 

“Come take a ride with me, Betty. Please.” He held his helmet out for her, in his eyes a hopeful plea. “I want to show you something.” 

Betty thought there was nothing more that she wanted than to wrap her arms around him on his bike and ride off, away from their past, away from their current troubles at the Wyrm. She could feel the pick-up of her heart as it began to beat faster, fueled by the hope there in his eyes. 

But that was what she _wanted,_ and right now she didn’t know if that’s what she _needed._ It would be all too easy to hop on his bike with him and pretend like their issues were nonexistent – but when they rode back into town, back into reality, she knew their problems would come crashing back into them like a monsoon. They needed to figure out how to move forward without blindly taking off without thought. 

“Not tonight,” she replied, but she shot him a small smile as consolation. She saw his shoulders drop, the hope in his eyes fade off, replaced by a thick film of disappointment. The upturned expression of his lips fell and a scowl appeared. He pulled back the offered helmet and slammed it down over his head. He turned the ignition of the bike and began to back out by stepping backward with his feet. 

“Fine.” 

She watched as he took off, jetting across the parking lot and out into the dark streets of the Southside. She sighed, lowering herself to the ground by her knees. She ran her hand over the loose threads of hair, pulling them back from her scalp. 

It was hard to tell if she had done the right thing or just patched together a new wall between them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene One:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Gasoline” by Halsey
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Two:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“K.” by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Three:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“John Wayne” by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Eight:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Opera House” by Cigarettes After Sex


	3. LOOSEN THE NOOSE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.
> 
> However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the third act of "Ouroboros," the longest chapter in the bunch! I'm so incredibly overwhelmed (in a good way) by all of the feedback and comments and kudos you guys have sent me on both here and tumblr. I'm an open gal and love talking about this kind of stuff, so don't be afraid to hit me up if you have any questions or just want to chat! My tumblr is elegantmoonchild.
> 
> Now for the fun stuff ;) This chapter has gun shooting, talk of violence, and lots of smutty smut smut. I promised you some action, and now I'm going to deliver! I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also, FYI, “Mo Chuisle” is pronounced as “muh khish-la” in case you are like me to speak things out in my head as I read.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

**Scene One**

Betty awoke just after the break of dawn, her body sore and her mind jumbled. The frazzled web of thoughts resulting from last night’s showdown with Jughead had her tossing and turning for the entirety of the post-midnight hours, and as much as her body longed for sleep, she would have none. 

She turned beneath the soft cotton sheet, curling the hem up toward her chin as an added means of comfort. The digital clock on her bedside table was black on gray, but even in the shadows of her barely lit bedroom she could see the time was 6:20 am. 

_Jesus._

Betty let out an exasperated sigh, wishing she could finally fall into a restful slumber, but the longer her anxiety about sleep built, the more and more awake she became. It was truly a vicious cycle. 

After another five minutes of tossing about, searching for that one spot in the bed that would bring sweet REM release, she relented and threw back the sheet to the cool of the morning. She sat up, curling her knees up to dangle over the bedside and considered her options. There was the delicious choice of drowning herself under the cool spray of a shower, the wake up of the colder temperature a nice precursor to what she expected to be another hot summer day. There was also the tempting alternative of black coffee, dabbled with a bit of fresh cold 2% and Splenda. 

Shower or coffee, shower or coffee – both equally good options, both possibilities for somewhere in her morning schedule, but which to apply first? _Coffee first,_ Betty thought confidently. As her brain perked up at the promise of caffeine, she knew she had made the right decision. 

She stood and stretched, hoping to soothe out the fatigue of the night with the lengthening of her spine and limbs. She wore a simple spandex-cotton blend sleep shirt, its spaghetti straps resting comfortably over her shoulders. There were tiny pink roses scattered in print over the fabric, almost too small to tell from across a room. They paired with the gray track shorts she wore with the elastic hem rolled down over her hips. Her feet were bare, but even during the summer months Betty recognized the floor of the bar could get quite cold, so she donned a pair of house shoes, pink with black underlining. 

As she walked out of her room, she pulled back the messy nest of her hair and secured it into a bun with the help of a simple hair tie. Casual and cool – no one would suspect that she had gone through several hours of torturous unrest. She strolled down the hall and turned the corner, leading herself right into the swing door of the kitchen. The main room of the Wyrm was quiet, as if it too was still sleeping. It appeared the only person who couldn’t sleep was Betty. 

After brewing a fresh pot of coffee and doctoring hers with the necessary milk and sugar substitute, she considered heading back to her room for a quick browse of the paper on her tablet to accompany her coffee, however as she breezed out of the kitchen she noticed the back door of the bar was open, the outermost screen door visible with the light of the rising sun. 

Apparently she wasn’t the only one who sleep evaded. 

She peered out through the screen and saw her mother, down on her knees and elbows deep in dirt. She wore a tan bonnet hat, though the threat of sun was not quite severe at this point. Betty could make out the back tie of an apron around her posterior and heard the hum of an old tune from her mother’s lips. Betty smiled and pushed through the screen and hovered a foot or two away from her mother’s bent form. 

Alice recognized the looming shadow towering over her plants and twisted her head up, a smile quickly forming on her lips. 

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?” She turned her attention back to her herbs, ears perked to listen. Betty stepped back to make contact with a lounge chair, settling onto the seat with her mug of coffee cupped in her hands between her knees. 

“I’m up at the crack of dawn, mother. I’d say not very well.” 

Alice’s mouth quirked up to the side, her expression thoughtful and disappointed. “I’m sorry to hear that, dear. Did you have a rough night?” 

Betty looked down into her mug and watched as the steam of the coffee mixed with the cool breeze of the morning air. “You could say that.” She brought the mug up to her lips and took the first sip of sweet caffeinated nectar. “Jug and I had another one of our lovely chats last night.” 

Alice’s gloved hands kneaded the dirt and soil, working to loosen the pebbles into a pliable crumble for potting. There was a beat of silence before she responded, “You two seem to be having a lot of those lately. Things still not patched up, I guess?” 

Betty took another sip and shook her head. “Nope. I think after ten years of hurt, it’s going to take more than a few arguments for him to get back at me. He’s just so angry, and I have no idea what to do to make him see that I’m sorry.” 

“Betty, sometimes it’s not about just apologizing. Jughead, well, he was in pretty rough shape after you took off. Don’t get me wrong – I don’t think it was the worst decision for you to get out of the Southside for a while, get your hands dirty and see a bit more of the world. But I think maybe the way you went about it was less than ideal. Jughead took it really hard and those are scars he’s got, baby – they don’t just go away overnight. They’re with you forever.” 

Betty sighed, setting her mug down in between her legs again. “Jesus, mom, why didn’t you say any of this before when I was in Albany?” 

“Well, you asked me not to say anything about Jughead! I wanted to honor your wishes. But you’re back and you two are talking again and I can say these things to you now.” She picked up a spade and began to dig a trench big enough for one of the bulbs that rested in a bucket beside her. 

Interested in changing the topic for a moment so as to avoid an argument with her mother, Betty turned her attention to the garden. FP had built a little plot for Alice years ago with wooden beams separating the dirt from the cement of the back patio. Alice had requested a little sanctuary for her herbs, one of the comforts she found after having both daughters leave for greener pastures. As a solid friend and always one with a soft spot for Alice, FP complied, and he had been blessed with the bounty of Alice’s garden ever since. Ever the diligent domestic queen, the Cooper matriarch had taken it upon herself to cook for the club, providing their meals, which they all were incredibly grateful for. Though the Wyrm had employed two other cooks for bar business, the food was never as good without a touch of Alice’s backyard herbs and edibles. 

“Your garden has really taken off, mom,” Betty observed, surveying the tuffs of carrot greens coming up from the ground next to a vine that she knew would grow luscious red tomatoes. There was basil and rosemary and thyme shuffled amongst the mix, and a few other plants that Betty didn’t recognize but knew would flourish aptly under her mother’s green thumb. 

Alice reached out for the bulb, took it, and planted it down into the trench. “FP really did a wonderful job with the carpentry. The little rack he built for my vines has made such a difference this year with my tomatoes.” 

Never one to let go of a moment for motherly teaching, Alice switched the conversation back onto her daughter’s situation, packing the dirt in around the bulb as she went. “Betty, dear, I know you’re still torn up about what has transpired between you and Forsythe, and believe me when I say the whole club feels the ripple. Be comforted, though, in knowing he’ll never _not_ care about you. The way he’s reacting now should speak volumes to that. He just needs time, just like my garden here. You have to work the soil, be patient, and soon there will be enough good for you to spread and share.” 

Alice rested back on her heels and turned to face her daughter. “Just give it time, love. He’ll come around.” She offered an easy smile, filled with motherly affection, and wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. She stood and began removing her gloves. 

“Now come, Betty. You can help me start breakfast for everyone.” 

Betty joined her mother in standing, careful not to spill her coffee. She continued to drink as she followed her mother back into the bar and into the kitchen. She glanced at her mother up and down and made note of the subtle differences she had seen since their last visit in Albany. 

“That gardening has really helped to keep you in shape, mom. Your body looks wonderful! I’m a bit jealous.” 

Alice grinned as she reached into the large stainless steel refrigerator, retrieving a carton of brown eggs. “You mean for a woman that’s just over 50?” She winked at her daughter. 

Betty laughed, setting her mug down on the long countertop. “I just mean in general you look really good. Healthy.” She tilted her head and watched as Alice began to crack the entire carton into a large glass bowl. “You’re even glowing. Are you sure there’s no man in your life?” 

Her mother quickly blushed and tried to brush the notion away with her hand. “Nonsense. Can’t a woman look this good on her own? I don’t need a man to look fabulous.” 

“No, but it doesn’t hurt to get your feathers ruffled a bit either.” 

“Elizabeth!” her mother exclaimed, though there was that hint of laughter at the corner of her lips. “I’d say if anyone needs their feathers ruffled around here, it’s you.” 

“Yeah, fat chance of that.” Betty turned her body to rest her back against the counter, her hands folded around the lip of the counter top. “It’s hard to get ruffled when there are no other birds around to do the ruffling.” 

Alice glanced sideways at her daughter. “Like I said, Betty, give it time.” 

Betty exhaled softly, considering her mother’s words. “I don’t know, mom. I don’t think Jughead is interested in starting anything back up with me anytime soon.” 

Alice brought a fork down into the bowl, whisking a concoction of eggs and a light dash of milk for scrambling. “I think you and Forsythe will always have a love for each other, no matter what. I think he wouldn’t be so upset if he didn’t still care about you. I’d say only time will tell, but watch for the signs, Betty. I think you’ll find there’s more there pointing to something than you’d think first glance.” 

Betty continued to reflect, pondering the possibility of her mother’s words. Yes, there was a strong chance that Jughead still harbored some positive feelings for her. The bond they shared was strong, almost rare and unworldly, but her mother was also right about the scars. _You can’t erase the permanent damage you do to someone._ No matter what kind of resuscitative efforts she made for their relationship, there were just some parts that would remain dead and gone. She knew she would have to sort through what was left to find out just what kind of future they could have. 

“Betty?” The sound of her mother’s tone had her looking up swiftly. 

“Sorry, did you say something?” 

“Yes, I asked what you wanted to happen between you and Jughead. Your opinion matters too.” 

And that was another thing for her to consider. Just what did Betty want from her relationship with Jughead? Was there anything worth salvaging that she actually wanted to put the work in for? Sure, she wanted there to be the friendship they used to have, but their roots ran too deep to be anything less than casual lovers. They’ll never be able to be _just friends._

But did Betty even want to get involved with him again? This would mean she’d have to stick around, practically obligated to not leave him again once she took that step forward. Whatever path she decided to take with Jughead, lover or less, it would have to be permanent. 

She picked her mug back up and took a deep sip, still contemplative. “I’m not sure, mom. I think it might be too soon to tell.” 

Alice seemed to take her daughter’s words for what they were and nodded. She instructed Betty to pull out three large flank steaks from the fridge, directing her to cut the meat in strips for grilling. Together, they concocted a large portion of steak and scrambled eggs with little bowls of cheese, salsa, grilled onions, and mushrooms for toppings. Just as Betty was brewing the second pot of coffee, the men began to congregate, looking for sustenance. 

FP sauntered into the kitchen, shirtless and looking just as handsome as his son. Above his right chest, there was a drawing of a green basilisk, its fangs bared with the title “King of Snakes” written beneath, the phrase “All Hail the King” inked above in gold. And on his right bicep, he had a tattoo of a jar of jellybeans for his deceased daughter, the thought of which nearly made Betty tear up. 

He made a lazy beeline to Alice before spotting Betty in the corner of the kitchen. He and Alice exchanged a quick look and he backpedaled, heading in the direction of the breakfast bar instead. 

“My, my, you fine ladies must have been up for hours slaving away for us knuckle heads. These eggs look wonderful, Alice.” 

The older Cooper woman pivoted around to rest her body against the counter, sipping from a mug of hot tea. “I picked them up the other day from Craig McGinty. His coop nearly rivals Clancy’s, there were so many chickens.” Her mother’s tone changed into something smoother and more suggestive. “You know, FP, I still think having a few chickens here would be helpful. You all go through so many eggs, it would help keep costs down. Besides, it would give me something to do.” 

FP laughed, seeing right through Alice’s ploy. “Woman, between the bar and the garden and everything else you do around here, I don’t see how you’d have any time to deal with clucking chickens. Besides, I don’t want them shitting all over that back area.” He took a bite of the egg-steak combo, looking at Alice with a glint of mischief in his eye. “And about the eggs, you know we’re growing boys. Takes a lot to keep up our stamina.” 

Betty thought she saw another flash of pink draw up along her mother’s cheeks, but they were masked by the mug as her mother brought it up to her lips for another sip. When she was done, Alice pointed to the plate of cut-up grapefruit halves and gestured for FP to take some. 

“Eat some grapefruit, FP. It’ll help with your blood pressure.” 

Betty watched as the eldest Jones man reached out, without consideration, and grabbed a half of the citrus fruit and a spoon. She contemplated the smirk that had begun to form on his face, but her attention was soon diverted as Jughead shuffled into the kitchen, stifling a yawn as he observed the copious amount of food before him. 

His hair was disheveled, thick strands of black spurting out in all directions. His t-shirt was screwed up, twisted in odd areas, and if Betty didn’t know better she’d think he also had a rough night with no sleep. The bags under his eyes, normally present but definitely more distinguished this morning, confirmed her theory. She watched as he scratched the back of his neck lazily and considered his dietary options. 

There was the obvious hot plate of steak and eggs that made Jughead’s mouth water, but next to it rested the leftover cold fried chicken Alice had made the night before, and there was something so wonderful about the salty cold crunch of leftover fried chicken in the morning. Jughead passed up the sautéed spinach that was on the table, perched in the middle as a strategically placed visual reminder to eat his vegetables, but he was never one for greens in the morning. In the end, he settled for a heaping pile of eggs and steak with a single fried chicken leg, knowing he could always come back for more. Though advised by Alice to also indulge in the grapefruit, he wasn’t as malleable as his father and passed on the fruit. 

In an effort to wave a white flag of sorts, Betty held out a white mug filled with coffee. He looked down at the mug and grunted, exhaustion still heavy on his face, but he took what she offered nonetheless. When their eyes met, he could see she was doing her best to be nice. 

“Thank you,” he muttered, but couldn’t muster the energy to say more. He needed protein, he needed nutrition and caffeine. _And about ten years’ worth of sleep,_ he thought, but brushed aside the negativity to try and be as pleasant as she was trying. 

Veronica glided into the kitchen, an easy wide smile on her face and a long silk robe strung across her shoulders, tied around her dainty waist. She went directly for the coffee, reaching into what she suspected was the cup cabinet and was rewarded with a large mug with an “Andrews Construction Co.” logo on the side. She poured deep from the coffee pot, finishing off the load, and turned, nearly bumping into the tall, grumpy form of Sweet Pea. 

“Watch it, princess. Not all of us are as chipper as you are this early in the morning.” 

She dodged out of his way, grabbing a small plate for her grapefruit, and smirked when she heard the low growl coming from the man behind her. Sweet Pea pulled out the coffee pot by the handle, holding it up to the light to see that nothing but dregs remained. 

“What the Hell? Couldn’t leave enough for actual club members with shit to do?” 

Veronica swiveled around and glared. “Maybe if you got your ass up out of bed at a decent hour, you’d have fresh coffee to do your usual scheduled sulking over instead.” She dug a spoon through her grapefruit, a bit more viciously than she would have liked. 

Sweet Pea could see he was getting under her skin and liked the way he made her react. Though he was tired and at his 8 am baseline of grouchy, he couldn’t help but leap at the chance to play along. 

“I don’t need coffee to do my sulking, but you sure need some to stop being such a bitch.” 

Her mouth opened wide, shocked at his insult. “Are you ever not a raging asshole?” 

“Doubtful,” he replied casually with a shrug. “But at least I’m aware that I’m exactly what people expect of me.” 

“And what the Hell does that mean?” she countered, her hands now planted on her hips, looking indignant. 

“Children, children,” Kevin called out as he walked into the kitchen. “That’s enough shouting for the morning. Let’s all just eat our breakfast, drink our coffee, take our pills, and chill the Hell out.” 

Betty grinned as she watched her friend amble over to the coffee pot and craft a new filter for brewing. He reached out and grabbed a plate for breakfast, ladling the eggs just as Joaquin was creeping into the kitchen. Betty looked between Kevin and Joaquin, their faces both flushed and pink, a bit of a glow on their skin. 

When Kevin joined her by the counter top, scooping warm eggs into his mouth, she leaned in and whispered, “Looks like somebody got laid this morning.” 

Kevin nearly choked on his eggs in an attempt to chuckle, but he shot her a sideways glance instead and lifted his eyebrows in response. Betty nodded softly, a bit impressed at how quickly they had patched things up. 

“Glad to see you guys have made up overnight.” 

Kevin shrugged, shoveling another fork load of eggs into his mouth. “Our baggage was minimal, Betty. Plus, no one can say no to a mouth like his.” He made a low groan sound that reverberated from his chest and Betty smacked his arm lightly, scandalized. 

“Kev, you’re so dirty this early in the morning.” She sighed. “I need to go back to sleep.” 

Kevin laughed and shrugged, gesturing with his head toward Jughead. “Maybe if you two made up you’d be happy with losing a bit of sleep.” 

Instead of giggling along, her lips pursed up in thought. She watched as Jughead went back for a second helping. “It’s not for lack of trying, Kev. He’s just not ready to forgive me.” 

“And are you? Ready to forgive _you?_ ” 

She turned to face him, her brow creased together. “I don’t know. I guess I didn’t really consider that I needed to be having that kind of conversation with myself.” 

“There’s no time like the present, my dear.” He set down his plate. “Now, I think the coffee is done and I’m about to go HAM on the caffeine. Baby boy got, like, _zero_ amount of sleep last night.” 

Betty watched as he drifted off toward the coffee pot before her eyes trailed away and met Jughead’s. 

Maybe it was time she had a good long sit down with herself, after all. 

///////

**Scene Two**

It was just after one in the afternoon when Kevin and Betty had gathered in the main room to re-stock and clean behind the bar. Her mother had tasked her with organizing the shelves for optimal efficiency as most nights they were overwhelmed with drink orders. _A messy bar makes for mayhem, Betty._ The echo of her mother’s words played like a loop in her head as she pulled bottle after bottle off of the shelf. 

She stepped back and placed her hands on her hips, evaluating the amount of bottles versus shelf space. They had an overwhelming amount of whiskey, which came as no surprise to Betty as dark liquor seemed to be the booze of choice at the Wyrm. It would do well to showcase their best selections in the middle, directly on the top shelf like a prize for the drinker with the most bucks to burn. 

“What are we going to do with these two bottles of Kahlua? Do bikers even like this shit?” Kevin fingered the two bottles of the coffee liqueur and lifted them up for Betty to consider. 

She considered the validity of his argument, confirmed by the fact that the dust that gathered around the length of the bottles proved little traffic. “Let’s set those aside. Worst case, Veronica and I can have a little girly gathering later tonight.” 

Kevin looked miffed, backtracking, “I mean, I’ll still drink it. It just doesn’t seem like something a hardened gun-wielding biker boy would drink.” 

“And what exactly do those kind of bikers drink?” 

Kevin and Betty swiveled around to see Toni stroll into the bar, a cigarette dangling coolly from her lips as she searched her jean pockets for a lighter. She wore her signature white tank top, braless, with little modesty as the brown of her nipples peaked through, stimulated by the breeze coming in from the open bar windows. Right above the hem of the tank was the outline of a fiery arrow and the top curve of a heart with the words “Savage Bitch” etched in red ink. On her right shoulder was the drawing of a cat with the words “Pussy Whipped” written in cursive, an homage to her ex-girlfriend Josie who broke her heart when she left the Southside to tour with her band. The result was the ink and permanent scar on Toni’s heart, a reminder that love can only end in misery and ache. 

“You missed breakfast, sunshine,” Kevin reminded, taking in her sleepy appearance. The black of last night’s eye makeup was smeared just under her eyes, the semblance of something wild like war paint. Her loose brown hair, wavy with pink tips, fluttered down to the small of her back as she moved closer to the bar top. She managed to light her cigarette and reached out for the bottle of Jack Daniels nearest her. 

“I’ve got the only breakfast I need right here.” 

“Cigarettes and whiskey? You do realize you’re a walking cliché, right?” 

Toni clucked her tongue at Kevin, shooting him a middle finger playfully as she exhaled a puff of smoke. That particular finger had the word “Fuck” tattooed along its length, the accompanying index finger with the word “Me” written in permanent black ink. 

“I’m as real as they come, sugar tits.” She unscrewed the cap off of the whiskey. “Now hand me a glass so I can get my vitamins and minerals like a big girl.” 

Kevin rolled his eyes and reached under the bar for a rocks glass. He set it on the bar but paused before sliding it her way. 

“P.S., next time you have a lady friend in your room, can you refrain from using so many curse words? My poor gay boy ears can’t listen to another girl moan the word ‘pussy’ next to my room for hours on end.” He finished his movement and she chuckled, pouring the whiskey into the glass. 

“I can’t help if I tend to gravitate toward the more vocal gals in the bunch. It’s a true curse, I know.” She filled about a fourth of the glass and tipped it back. “Besides, luscious, something has to drown out the sound of you two sucking cock all night.” 

Beside Kevin, Betty burst into laughter while her friend stood and blushed, taken aback by Toni’s rebuttal. 

Toni shrugged and smirked. “Hey, if you’re gonna dish it out, you gotta learn to eat it up too. You’ll never survive with Joaquin here at the Wyrm if you don’t remember that. We’re all a family and we’re going to rib on each other more often than not.” 

When it came to family, it had taken a long time for Toni to understand the true meaning of the word. From a young age, the Cajun girl from New Orleans found herself at the mercy of her abusive father and the negligence of her mother. She still had nightmares of those days where her father would reach out and strike her hard across the face, her mother inches away with a glazed look on her face as if she was trying to be anywhere other than where they were. Toni hated her father, but despised her mother most for being such a coward, for allowing her husband to lay a hand on her child without objection. 

When she was just fifteen, Toni had left home with a bag of provisions and busted top lip. She had hitchhiked her way to New York, a true survivor as she sorted out those drivers that meant her well and those that meant her harm. She managed to get 30 minutes out of the city heading north before she demanded her driver, who had become a little too handsy, drop her off on the side of the road. As she was walking along the dusty roads leading to Riverdale, FP found her as he rode his bike, and she had found sanctuary at the Whyte Wyrm ever since. 

FP had taken quite the shine to Toni, her skills at motor vehicle repairs and sharp wit persuasive enough to give her a shot at being the first female Serpent since the club’s inception. In the Serpents, she found the true definition of family and what it was to be an adult who could keep their anger in check. 

Kevin crossed to the other side of the bar, pretending to be occupied with a different section of the shelf to deconstruct and reorganize. Toni took another drink of her whiskey and eyed Betty, watchful as the blonde reached out to compare two bottles of gin. 

“Feeling like a little gin-soaked afternoon delight, bombshell?” Betty tilted her head in Toni’s direction, shooting her a sideways grin. 

“Hardly. Not that you don’t hold some sort of freshman year, girl-on-girl appeal, but I think I’ve left my experimenting days behind me.” 

“Ooh, I love first time stories of straight girls naked together in their dorm rooms. Betty Cooper, do tell.” 

“It really wasn’t that salacious, Toni – I hate to break it to you.” 

Toni shrugged, pouring herself another helping of alcohol. “I’m bored and horny. I’m sure I can use my imagination.” 

“Didn’t you just have company last night? How can you be so oversexed?” 

“Jughead’s not the only one here with a ferocious appetite.” 

Betty couldn’t help but blush. 

“If you had to choose between London dry and new wave gins, which would you choose?” 

“Like most aspects in life, I’m not choosy.” 

Betty sighed, swiveling around to lean against the bar in front of Toni. “Thanks for the help. Though I guess it doesn’t matter. All I ever see you guys drink is cheap whiskey and bottled beer. Not sure why mom wants me to organize these bottles that will probably never get opened.” 

“Keep the gin. And the schnapps. It’ll give me something to entice those snooty Greendale girls with.” 

Betty laughed, setting the aforementioned bottles of liquor aside for placement. “You’re completely shameless.” 

Toni chuckled and finished off her drink. Just as she was setting the glass down, wrestling Betty for the bottle as the blonde chided her for early afternoon imbibing, the sound of high heels clicked across the bar floor. 

The two women spun around from their tussle and watched as Cheryl Blossom approached from across the bar, decked out in red high heels adorning her long-legged milky white stems, leading up to a pair of tight white denim shorts and a sleeveless blood red crop top, rising above her navel and tied off around her natural waist. Her vivid ginger curls were knotted up in a loose bun crowning the top of her head, loose tendrils sweeping down to frame her face, her eye makeup smoky and scarlet lipstick striking and bold. 

Toni could feel her insides twist, the sight of Cheryl’s mouth-watering tight curves and long legs driving her a little wild. Driven by curiosity and the liquid courage of the whiskey, Toni licked her lips. 

“What are you doing here, duchess? It’s only been a day and you’re already back for more.” 

Cheryl ambled up to Toni, stopping a few feet away. She looked the brunette up and down, her manner obvious and bold. She clicked her tongue and gestured to the bar with a tilt of her head. 

“I felt like a drink and I heard you might be around.” She turned to address Betty. “Vodka tonic, doll, if you wouldn’t mind.” The appeal seemed more a demand than a request, but Betty complied regardless, grabbing a highball glass from under the bar. 

Her eyes glued to Cheryl, Toni shifted on the bar stool, bringing her hand up to cup her own chin, running her index finger along her bottom lip. “What can I do for you?” 

Cheryl shrugged casually, saddling up to the bar when her drink was ready. She tossed her red clutch purse on the bar top and set the brake on a rolling suitcase she held in her other hand. Toni scrutinized the baggage. 

“You going on some sort of trip, duchess? Come over for a kiss goodbye?” 

Cheryl brought the glass to her lips and sipped, leaving a trace of lipstick behind like an imprint. She seemed a bit distracted, lost in thought, though when she spun over on the stool to face Toni, there was heat and mischief in her eyes. 

“You could say I came looking for a change. I was getting a little bored with the Ghoulies.” 

“So you thought the Serpents might offer a bit more bang for your buck? That’s awfully presumptuous of you. Though I’ve never been called heartless, I recognize that Ghoulies aren’t welcome here in this bar, no matter how delicious they look.” 

Cheryl smirked, her tongue peeking out to moisten her lips. The action wasn’t lost on her brunette counterpart, Toni’s eyes trapped in the sight of Cheryl’s lips plump and glistening. 

“Who says I’m still a Ghoulie?” 

“Sweetheart, you’re a Blossom. You can’t escape the red hair that adorns that pretty little head of yours. You’re a Ghoulie by association, whether you want to be or not.” 

“You’ve never had a piece of yourself that you wished you could rip out? I may have been born a Ghoulie but I say who I belong to. I don’t belong to them and I can do what I want.” Her tone was indignant and for a second Toni felt a spark of pride develop. 

“That may be the case, but that doesn’t mean you can walk into this bar and tell us what we have to do either. The Serpents don’t take shit from no one, dame or not.” 

“So are you telling me you’re going to kick me out of this bar?” She scoffed. “Let me at least finish my drink first.” 

Beyond the overwhelming pride, Toni could see a sliver of hurt somewhere deep within the milky brown layer of her eyes, and when Cheryl brought the glass back to her lips, it only further highlighted the yellowish tint of an old bruise resting just above the apple of her right cheek. 

Beneath her hardened exterior and inability to commit, Toni knew she had an unfortunate soft spot for damsels in distress. Cheryl, however, remained a bit of an enigma, all pride and stubbornness even when she was currently destitute and in need of sanctuary. 

“What do you plan to do with that suitcase, sugar?” Toni’s teased, angling for more information. 

Cheryl finished the rest of her vodka and fondled an ice cube with her thumb and index finger. “Put it in your bedroom.” She brought the ice cube to her lips, sliding it along the edges before slipping it in to meet her heated tongue. Toni found herself salivating. “If you’ll have me.” 

Toni considered her proposal, knowing she’d need to run it by the club first. “Oh what the Hell, I feel like breaking a few rules today. Second door down the hall to the left. Park your shit in there and come have another drink with me.” 

Cheryl grinned, though it was obvious she was trying to conceal her relief. As she slipped off the bar stool, unlocking her suitcase handle to wheel back into Toni’s bedroom, Betty called out to her. 

“Cheryl, how’s Polly? I know she’s with your brother.” 

Cheryl looked her up and down, taking in her blonde hair and stark green eyes. “Betty Cooper. I should have recognized that signature Cooper jawline and good-girl vibe. Your sister is fine.” Cheryl hesitated, her voice wavering and Betty became suspicious. “You should give her a call sometime. I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.” 

Cheryl swiveled around and wheeled her luggage down the hall, leaving a faint whisper of her sweet floral perfume in her wake. 

“Jug’s gonna kill me,” Toni chuckled, shaking her head back and forth as she watched Cheryl sway her hips out of view. 

Betty considered her options, strategizing. She knew it would be wise to keep Cheryl around, a direct link to information about her sister. There was something a little off with how Cheryl described Polly’s status and Betty hoped she’d divulge more details. 

“Let me talk to him. I have a few thoughts he might agree with.” 

///////

**Scene Three**

“Absolutely not.” 

Jughead bounded down the staircase, Betty hot on his heels. He was trying to brush her off, but she wasn’t taking the hint, refusing to take his “no” for an answer. 

When she had told him about Cheryl Blossom’s arrival and suggested that they harbor her at the Wyrm, he was furious. Her constant requests were already getting on his nerves. She had no place to make demands of him. She lost that privilege the night she walked out of his life, and now that she was back she just expected to earn that advantage immediately. It pissed him off to no end – and here she was, trying it again. 

“Why not, Jughead? What objection could you possibly have that I wouldn’t have as well? I get that her last name carries with it a lot of baggage but she came of her own volition. She wanted out of the Ghoulies.” 

“That’s what she _says._ We don’t know shit about why she’s here.” He slid his arms into the sleeve of his leather jacket and pulled the lapels inward. He made for the bar door, slipping out with her on his trail. He stalked to his bike and yanked the helmet strap off of the handlebars. 

“She can be useful to us, Jug.” 

“No, she can be useful to _you._ Your needs are not my needs.” He mounted his bike, straddling the seat before pulling the keys out of his jacket. 

“We talked about this. When it comes to Polly, the needs are mutual. Cheryl has a direct link to the inside of the Ghoulies, a direct link to my sister. She could have information that would help us.” She stood her ground. “Don’t let the bullshit between us cloud your judgment.” 

He scoffed, slamming the helmet down over his head. “You think my feelings for you are getting in the way of my ability to lead this club?” 

“Don’t put words into my mouth, Jughead. I’m not criticizing the way you run this club. I haven’t been here, I know it. You have every right to run this place the way you see fit. All I’m saying is that this is a smart choice – give Cheryl shelter in exchange for information about Polly. Make a deal, make a blood oath – I don’t care. I just think it would be foolish to say no when she might be our best advantage right now.” 

“You know, you’ve always had a big mouth, Cooper.” 

She smirked. “And you’ve always had a hard head, Jones.” 

The hardened lines of his face relented and he chuckled, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.” He turned the ignition to the bike, revved the engine. He turned to face her, his lips quirked up. 

“Come take a ride with me, Betty.” 

She hesitated. “I don’t know, Jug…”

“Just one ride. I know for a fact you haven’t been back on a Harley for a decade. You know you miss it,” he teased. 

She took a moment to consider then broke down. “Fine, fine. One ride.” 

He slipped the helmet off of his head and handed it over to her. He had forgone his beanie, leaving his black hair wild and free. 

Betty straddled the bike seat, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia as she tucked her feet on the extra set of foot pedals. She tilted her chest forward and wrapped her arms around Jughead’s waistline, leaning into the full force of familiarity. She felt his arm wriggle to flick over the clutch and they took off, gunning out of the parking lot and down the access road. 

The feel of the breeze through the tips of her blonde hair felt like magic, enveloped in the comfortable warmth of a memory as the many days and nights sitting on the back of his bike while they flew through the streets of the Southside came back to flood through her mind like a hurricane. The leather of his jacket pressed against the starchy material of her button-up summer blouse reminded her of the summer before he had turned 18. They had snuck out to explore a new beach at Sweetwater River, the sun beating down on them as they rode. She had clung so tight to Jughead that afternoon, not out of fear but sheer need to feel his hard body pressed against hers. She recalled that it hadn’t taken long for their clothes to both be off as they swam in the buff, their bodies tangled in the murky creek as their hands explored beneath the surface. They still hadn’t made love, but Jughead had certainly gotten better at finding her weakest spots. 

The memory filled her with a red blush as the current day Betty fought against the familiar pool of heat that threatened to gather between her legs. They were just going for a ride – there should be no expectations as expectations mostly led to disappointment. 

Betty refrained from the urge to lean in and press a soft kiss against the exposed nape of Jughead’s neck, but she didn’t refuse herself a chance to inhale his scent, fresh herbal soap and his most recent cigarette. It was intoxicating and she felt like drowning in it. 

She distracted herself by observing the path around them. The route was becoming familiar and she felt a quick clench of her insides when she recognized the road sign that led to Crystal Point. The night of his 16th birthday came flashing back and this time she didn’t even try to push it away. 

When he pulled into the thin grassy patch, he puttered up close to one of the trees and turned the ignition. _Their tree._

In front of the bike was the very tree Jughead had carved their initials into all those nights ago, when they had made each other see stars under the sunset. Betty dismounted from the bike, her eyes frozen on the imprint on the tree. Truthfully, she was surprised to see it was still standing, a decade of time between them and its roots. 

If she wanted to wax poetic, she’d take it as a metaphor for their relationship – battered from the weather and time but still standing. 

“I’m surprised that tree is still here after all these years.” 

Jughead turned to face her and she could see from her peripheral vision that he was watching her with perplexity. “I suppose it’s stronger than you gave it credit for.” 

Betty realized there in that little patch of forest at Crystal Point that she wasn’t the only one who could think in metaphors. 

“Yeah I guess so,” she mumbled, approaching the tree slowly. She extended her hand and ran her fingertips over the indentions, tracing along the curve of the “B” and swooping along the bottom part of his “J.” She couldn’t bring herself to finger the heart, thinking it would only make the moment more real than she could handle. 

When she retracted her hand from the bark and turned, she found Jughead was only a few strides away, his eyes glued to where she stood. 

“Jug…” she could hear his name escape her lips but couldn’t bring herself to continue. 

He moved for her, closing the distance between them as he brought his hands to her face and his lips to her mouth. The wind around them moved, billowing and blowing like a cocoon around their embrace, and he pulled her in closer to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and his tongue probed her shuttered lips, pleading for entry. They pressed and pulled, the weight of ten empty years made up in that one single kiss. When they pulled away, it was like they had been burned and their limbs disentangled in a rush. Their chests were heaving for breath, their faces flushed and eyes dark. 

She could see Jughead’s shoulders rise and fall from the power of their embrace, but his face looked hot and angry. His hair fell to swoop above his eyes and she had never been more frightened of him in her whole life. 

“Would you have come back? If the Ghoulies hadn’t taken Polly, would you have come back? I have to know.” Jughead’s fists were clenched by his sides as he fought to restrain himself from pulling her back into his arms and devouring her. 

“Why does it matter, Jug?” 

He kicked at the ground, cutting their stand-off short as he paced the perimeter around them. He threw a hand up to tug at his hair, cursing as his fingers threaded through the tresses. “How the Hell can it not matter, Betty? I need to know if you would have come back. Would you have come back for me? For this?” 

She watched him, a man mad with emotion and something resembling fear that loomed in the wild gleam of his eye. She thought to respond but had no idea what would come out of her mouth. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, his face suddenly solemn and his voice just above a near whisper. 

“Were you really going to keep on living without ‘us’ in your life?” 

The break in his voice nearly brought her to her knees. 

“I – I don’t know, Jughead. I don’t know what I would have done.” 

He seemed to reject her answer, resuming his pacing and she could see his body shake, his fingers trembling as they swept up to brush at his hair again. 

“Could it be so easy for you to turn away from this?” He gestured with his quivering hands, pointing at the space between their bodies. “Is there no part of you that questioned what you did all of those years ago?” 

“It’s not that simple, Jug. And it’s not like I told you I didn’t love you. I had to get out. I had to save _me,_ Jughead. When have I ever done that? How many times did you tell me growing up that I needed to stick up for myself, that I needed to learn to say ‘no’ to things that would zap me of everything I had? I had to get out. Goddamnit, Jughead!” She threw her hands up, the anger threatening to bubble up as the tension between them had come to a head. “I was _drowning,_ suffocating under the weight of you and my feelings. You were my _everything,_ Jughead, and I had nothing for myself. Watching you bleed out on that table was like watching everything I had die before me. For a harrowing few hours, I thought I was about to lose everything. I realized I needed something for _me._ Why is that so damn hard for you to understand?” 

“You think the weight of _my_ feelings for you didn’t crush me? I may have seemed like I had everything I ever wanted – the Serpents, the freedom of being an adult, the guns and money – but none of it kept me afloat like my love for you did. You think it’s normal for an 18 year old boy to be so tangled up in a girl that he’d gladly give away the spoils of war just for one night with her? I felt like a joke. I should have been drowning myself in pussy. The newest Serpent, the youngest, the son of the Serpent King – all of that came with rewards but none of that shit mattered to me. You were the only thing I _needed,_ Betty. You set fire to my heart when I needed the warmth to survive. And then you doused it out with ice and it took my breath away. My lungs have been empty since you left.” 

“That’s so twisted, Jughead. Can’t you see that? We should never have been that tangled up in each other that we couldn’t manage being apart. We were just kids!” 

“That doesn’t change history, Betty.” He let out a slow exhale, tried to regain his composure. “That first night I took your hand in the Wyrm, when you were running scared with your mom and Polly – when we touched, I thought I had touched an angel. I can still remember the heat I felt between our palms. I’ve never been the same since. You did that, Betty. _You._ You’ve wrecked me. I’m ruined, Betty.” 

He yanked at his leather jacket, suddenly feeling suffocated. He pulled it off and slung it across the bike. When he turned to face her again, there was pain evident in every crease, every curve. 

“Every time I’m with a girl, I fucking hate that she cannot compare to you. Every single time I’m inside her, looking down at her face twisted in ecstasy, I hate myself because you’re all I see. I can’t even bring myself to come inside her because it just doesn’t feel right. It’s like I’d be giving a part of myself to her, and it’s just not right.” He looked her straight in the eye, blue boring into green. “I can’t give a piece of myself away when all of me belongs to you.” 

He stalked toward her, reaching out to grab her wrist. He gripped hard and brought it to his chest, forcing her to spread her palm against him. She could feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the pounding of his heart. “Can you feel me? Can you feel my heart? It’s been dead, existing without a beat, like a ghost with nothing to haunt. I’ve been floating through the past ten years like I’ve been blind. But now it beats fast, can’t stop beating since you stepped foot in the bar again. You’re the only one it beats for. You, Betty. Not me. I can’t function without you. How can you deny that? Can you sit here and tell me you don’t feel the same?” 

Betty’s insides were storming within her, waves beating against her rib cage as her heart bounced around wildly like it never had before. She slowly crumpled her fingers inward, clutching his shirt in her hand as her eyes stayed trapped within his. There was hurt there. There was pain. But beneath it all there was hope. 

“What do we do now, Jug?” 

Silence enveloped them as they stared, each daring the other to move. In the end, they moved together, colliding into each other with lips mangled as they pressed hard enough to bruise. She tugged at his shirt and his fingers flew up to the buttons along her blouse, fumbling with each as he fought to remove it from her body. They both tumbled to their knees, joined there together in the grass, as they struggled to get closer. She pulled him down on top of her and they rolled, their limbs clamped tight together. 

He finally got her blouse opened, his hands immediately flying to the smooth skin of her breast. He pulled down the cup and groped her soft mound, his lips breaking free from hers to suckle at the nipple that perked up from the breeze. He could hear her moans and pleas to keep going, urging him to move beyond her chest and down the length of her torso. He pressed gentle kisses down her abs, his tongue poking out to lap around her belly button. The little nerves there sprang to life and she felt glorious. 

She wrapped one of her legs across his waist and pulled him down even further on top of her, rolling her hips against his to get relief from the ache between her legs. She could feel he was hard as a rock, and she could almost remember how good it felt to have him buried inside her. Suddenly, she was in a rush, pushing him further and further. She reached for the buckle of his jeans, the need to have him overwhelming her senses, but he stopped her, his hand coming down to grip her wrist. 

“Betts, no. Stop.” 

“What – what’s wrong, Jug?” 

He sighed. “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

Betty’s stomach dropped to her knees and her blood ran cold. Filled with a surge of shame and embarrassment, she sat up quickly, throwing him back off of her. Her hands flew to her top and she began to button her blouse back up. 

“Betty –“

“No, it’s okay Jughead. Just old habits, I guess. We should get back.” She hoisted herself up off of the ground and righted her clothing. She reached up and smoothed out her hair, careful not to show that it had been tousled by her hot and heavy reunion with an old lover. 

“Betty…”

“Jughead, I said it’s fine. Now, please, take me back to the Whyte Wyrm.” 

Jughead sat on the ground for another minute, staring down at the ground in thought. He finally got up and straightened himself out as Betty locked the helmet strap under her chin. They rode off in silence, the only sound between them the whir and vibration of the motorcycle across the gravel road. 

///////

**Scene Four**

“I’m never going to take you seriously if you don’t know how to shoot a gun.” 

“I don’t need a gun to show you how serious I am, you arrogant jackass.” 

Veronica and Sweet Pea were on their second argument of the day, the result of another round of teasing brought on by Sweet Pea’s need to knock Veronica’s ego down a peg. Betty watched from behind the bar as the twosome were going at it, spewing wit and insults across the barstool between them. 

“Seriously, though – how can you be from New York and not know how to defend yourself? You’re not exactly built for hand to hand combat.” 

“I’m a lot tougher than I look. Maybe you shouldn’t test me.” 

Sweet Pea scoffed and took another sip from his beer. “I’m not afraid of you.” 

Veronica reached out and snatched the bottle from his hand. “Maybe you should be.” 

He rolled his eyes, irritated at her brazenness. “I’d feel a little more threatened, princess, if I thought you could fend me off.” 

“Is that a threat?” she asked, her eyebrow quirked up at him. 

“It is if you don’t know how to shoot a gun.” 

Veronica huffed and took a swig of his beer that she still held in her hand. “Fine. Then teach me.” 

He reached over the bar and grabbed a fresh beer from the cooler below. He popped the top off as he sat and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Plus, I don’t do well with stuck up chicks who will spend the whole afternoon bitching about getting dirt on their shoes instead of actually learning something.” 

“I think you underestimate me, Sweet Pea.” 

“I’m just going off of what you’ve given me, babe.” 

Veronica opted to change tactics. “You know, I didn’t think a tough guy like you would be so afraid of a little challenge.” 

Sweet Pea turned full body to face her, swiveling on his bar stool. “You, princess, are anything but a little challenge.” 

“You don’t think you could handle me?” 

He considered her for a moment, staring at her long and hard as he took a swig from his beer. “You have to promise not to bitch. And you need to listen to every word I say.” 

Veronica hopped off of her stool and grinned, replying that she was going to change her clothes. Betty discarded the bottle Veronica left behind and eyeballed Sweet Pea. 

“You’re going to enjoy every moment of that, aren’t you?” 

Sweet Pea smirked as he took another drink. “You bet your ass.” 

Twenty minutes later, Sweet Pea, Veronica, and Betty were trekking through the back field behind the Whyte Wyrm. Sweet Pea had explained there was a patch of land that the Serpents used for target exercise, and Betty tagged along to get extra practice. 

She reasoned that it would be wise to know how to protect herself should this situation with Polly become volatile. It had been a while since Betty had operated a gun, the last course she had taken a few years back in Albany. She made her first firearm purchase two springs ago, a .9 mm Kimber Pro Carry II that she had kept concealed in her bottom dresser drawer. 

She had the gun now tucked into a holster by her side, her boots digging into the dirt as she hiked through the field beside Veronica. Her dark-haired counterpart had changed her attire, decked out now in tall riding boots and jeans instead of the casual skirt and heels she had on in the bar. To her credit, Veronica had refrained from complaining about the mud pockets that speckled the land, too consumed with pride to utter a single word of protest. They followed behind the tall, slender and brooding form of Sweet Pea who stomped through the mud without thought. 

When they got to the empty patch of land marked by a row of wooden stumps, Sweet Pea yanked off the backpack he had slung across his shoulders. He unzipped the bag and pulled out a handful of old beer bottles by their necks and walked among the stumps, setting a bottle down on each. 

He reached back into his jeans pocket and pulled out his handgun. He turned the safety off and handed it, handle first, to Veronica. 

“Come here and stand in front of me. I’m going to guide your hands and tell you when to pull the trigger.” 

Veronica did as he asked, planting herself in front of him before raising her arms up to chest height. What took her by surprise, however, was the tingly way she felt when he pressed his body against hers and encased her hands in his. She could feel the warmth of his breath next to her ear and subconsciously shivered. Though she couldn’t see him, she could almost feel the smirk that grew on his lips. 

“Okay – see that target right there? The green bottle there on the left. You are going to aim for that bottle, right there at the base. You’re going to take a deep breath, relax your shoulders, and then squeeze the trigger.” 

Veronica did as he instructed but she missed, chipping off a piece of wood beneath the bottle. 

“Shit,” she muttered. 

“It’s okay,” he reassured. “You just need to relax your shoulders up a bit more.” He removed his hands from hers and placed them on her shoulders. He gave them a gentle squeeze and she suddenly found it even harder to concentrate. His mouth was dangerously close to her neck. 

“Now I want you to inhale deeply, then breathe out slowly as you pull the trigger,” he whispered. Veronica took a deep breath and exhaled, her lips pursed as she released the trigger. This time, the bullet landed through the bottle, shattering it into hundreds of tiny green pieces of glitter. 

Her mouth opened in shock. “I did it!” she exclaimed. She started to jump up and down with excitement. 

“Hold on, there, kid. You’ve still got a gun in your hand.” 

Veronica blushed slightly as she planted her feet on the ground. “Sorry,” she said, a bit embarrassed. 

“You got one good shot in. Let’s see you hit another.” Sweet Pea guided her to the next set of bottles and she was two for five on her shots, a number she found herself still impressed with. This type of activity was totally out of her element and she considered it a personal achievement to have made a successful shot period. 

Next to her, Betty lined up and made her own shots. Her numbers were more accomplished, but a usually competitive Veronica cheered her on nonetheless. Sweet Pea scrutinized her stance and commented on her shooting ability. 

“You shoot good, Cooper. I’m actually a little surprised.” 

Betty shrugged, turning the safety back on her gun after another round was done. “I guess I just had more time to practice in Albany. A girl has to learn how to protect herself, plus I grew up around guns with the club so there’s power in observation.” 

“Plus you just look smokin’ hot while you shoot, B,” Veronica complimented. Betty laughed as Sweet Pea rolled his eyes. 

The heat of the afternoon began to beat down upon them as they continued their practice. Sweet Pea had removed his shirt at one point, running back and forth between the targets to replace the bottles and cans he had brought after the girls took their shots. After one particular round, Sweet Pea ran back to where the girls stood, watching as they both assumed their positions. Betty began to take aim and shoot, but Veronica was too curious with the art stenciled across Sweet Pea’s glistening tan skin. 

“So, SP, you going to give us a road map to all of those tats?” 

Sweet Pea looked down across his chest, his eyebrow quirked in confusion. He pointed first to round scar just above his right pectoral. The word “BULLETPROOF” was written in cursive. 

“I got this one here shortly after my 22nd birthday. I got shot in the chest by some fucking Ghoulie, but I lived to tell the tale. Gives me confidence that I can’t be killed so easily.” 

Veronica pointed to one on his right forearm, the inked in picture of a classic Harley cruiser with the name “Ricky” right above it. “And this one?” 

“That’s for Tall Boy’s son, Ricky.” 

Betty perked up at the sound of Ricky’s name. “Why do you have his name on your arm?” 

Sweet Pea turned to face her. “I guess you didn’t know Tall Boy is my uncle. Ricky was my cousin and we grew up together. He died in a car accident when he was 17.” 

“Shit,” Betty responded. “I had no idea that happened to Ricky. I didn’t know him well, but every time I saw him here at the Wyrm he was always really cool.” 

Sweet Pea nodded. “Yeah, we were incredibly close as kids. Tall Boy took me in when I was about 15 right after my mom died. A few years after that, he brought me to the Wyrm and I joined the Serpents. Been in love with the club ever since.” 

Veronica was enjoying this talkative side of Sweet Pea, happy that he was opening up about his past for once and not acting like a total jerk. She could spot the tattooed pair of brass knuckles across his back under his neck, his preferred weapon of choice, but she was more interested in his right arm and the more feminine ink on it – a sweet pea flower on his bicep with the name “Georgia” right above it. She took that to be his mother’s name. 

“Is that one there on your arm for your mom?” Veronica pressed a gentle finger to the skin right on one of the flower petals. 

Sweet Pea nodded. “Yeah, it was her favorite flower. I took on the moniker when I joined the club.” 

“And your real name would be?” 

“Do you want me to kill you?” 

Veronica couldn’t help but chuckle. “Come on, SP. I promise to treat that information gently.” 

He shot her a hesitant sideways glance. “I don’t know…”

Veronica set the gun down on the nearest stump and settled her hands on her hips. “What harm can I seriously do with a name?” 

Sweet Pea took a pause. “Alright, fine – it’s John. Now that the show & tell portion of our training is done, let’s get back to shooting.” 

Veronica grinned, retrieving the gun as she lifted her arms to aim. 

“You know, it’s nice to hear you talk about something sentimental. You don’t have to be a hard ass all the time.” 

“I’ve got a heart in here somewhere, princess.” 

“Yeah, and you’re not half bad at teaching either. Maybe if you loosened up a bit, you and I can actually be friends.” 

“I don’t need another friend, and I think some of us are loose enough for the rest.” 

Veronica turned her head in his direction, her mouth slightly ajar. “Are you referring to me?” 

“Hell no. Peaches – you’re tighter than a wound up, pissed off rattlesnake. I’m talking about that Ghoulie bitch in our bar.” 

“You mean Cheryl,” Betty supplied. 

“That’s the one,” he said with venom on his lips. 

“Sweet Pea, we need her for more information about my sister. I know it’s not ideal but she genuinely seems to be happy to be rid of the Ghoulies.” Betty took a shot, busted the middle of a beer can. “Which kind of makes me worried why she’s so glad to be away from them.” 

Sweet Pea settled next to them, another handgun from the backpack now in his hands. He took aim at a glass bottle and shattered the neck. “Your sister is going to be okay. Besides, just because we need the redhead doesn’t mean I have to like her being here. All she does is walk around in her underwear and fuck Toni.” 

“Feeling a little jealous, SP?” Veronica teased. 

“Fuck no,” he spat on the ground, took another shot, and missed. 

“You seem a little wound up yourself.” 

“I get by,” he replied, shooting a third time and hitting true. He turned to face Veronica and looked her up and down shamelessly. “But if you have a better idea, be my guest.” 

Veronica smirked. “You still feel that way now that you see what I can do with a gun?” 

Sweet Pea chuckled and resumed his shooting. 

The threesome continued their practice for another half hour before the sun became too much for them to handle safely. Sweet Pea packed up the extra bottles and cans and stored them in a plastic crate near one of the stumps. They made their way back to the bar just as the sun was setting and Betty laughed to herself as she watched Veronica and Sweet Pea walk side by side in front of her, exchanging witty banter and playful pushes as they crossed the field to the Wyrm. 

///////

**Scene Five**

Betty reached across an empty glass bowl for a new knife, bringing the blade down aggressively to chop up a long, thick carrot. She gathered up the coins and placed them into a bowl next to a grill pan layered in foil and olive oil. She reached for the squash next and repeated. 

Kevin stood across the kitchen island from her, watching her dice the veggies, his brow quirked up. “Something on your mind, Betty?” 

“Huh?” she halted her chopping and looked up. She could feel the muscles in her face tense up and she fought to relax them. 

“You look like you’re about to go ‘Kill Bill’ on half the produce section. There’s only two things that can cause that kind of hostility, and since I haven’t heard you and Jughead bicker in the last couple of days, I’ve got to assume it’s sexual tension. 

Betty shook her head, resuming her chopping. “Kev, it’s not like that.” 

“And you expect me to believe nothing went down when you went two rode off into the sunset the other night?” 

“We just went for a ride,” Betty explained, pouring the squash into the bowl with the carrots. She reached for a carton of white cap mushrooms. 

“It’s never that simple with you and Jughead, Betty. You don’t really expect me to believe nothing happened? The tension between you two has been building for days.” 

She sighed, relenting. “Okay, fine. We just kissed.” 

“Betty!” Kevin exclaimed, his mouth open. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Well, I’m telling you now! Besides, I’m trying not to put too much weight behind it. He’s still just so angry with me.” 

“And I think that’s something that’s not going to change for a while. There’s ten years of anger there that he’s going to need to break down. At least it seems like he’s trying, though. That’s a good sign.” 

Betty shrugged, wiping a bead of sweat off of her brow with the back of her forearm. “Yeah, I guess. I just don’t know what to feel about all of this either. On the one hand, I’ve missed him. I can admit that openly. What we had was real and you can’t erase those feelings. On the other hand, though, there’s a reason I left. He’s still so tied up in the club, that hasn’t changed. I just don’t know if there’s room for us both there in his life.” 

“I know you don’t see it, but I know Jughead’s still in love with you, Betty. Just give it time and you’ll see too.” 

Betty nodded to herself, trading out the chopped mushrooms for bell peppers. “Enough of the heavy shit – tell me how things have been with Joaquin.” 

Kevin chuckled. “I hear you trying to change the subject, and while I’m going to want more details later about this kiss you had, I’m happy to tell you all of my juicy gossip.” He sighed dreamily. “Joaquin is just… so… wonderful. This time feels different, Betty. Like – we always had something good, but we were younger and I think things just got too confusing. But lately, we’ve been doing a lot more talking –“ 

“And _not talking,_ ” Betty teased. 

“But of course!” Kevin replied, laughing. “And damn, I forgot how good he was in the sack. No one’s ever gotten me that hard bef—“

“Ugh, details! Too much!” Betty exclaimed, her hands shooting up to cover her ears with her palms. 

Kevin laughed and waved her off. “Fine, fine. Another time then. But we have been talking, just, about life and what we want out of it, where we see ourselves going in the near future. We sort of talked from both an individual and a couple angle and that’s nice. I feel like we can really go somewhere this time. I’ve been in a relationship or two since Joaquin, but in the back of my mind, there he was. It just seems like he’s always occupied some sort of space in my mind and in my heart.” 

Betty shook her head in emphasis. “Roger that. It’s definitely a confusing feeling, I can attest.” 

“Yes, but I’m just glad it’s actually going somewhere with us this time. I’m tired of feeling all of these things for him but not actually doing anything about it. It seems like Joaquin was feeling the same.” 

Betty smiled at her friend. “Well I’m glad things are starting to pan out for you two. I always thought you guys made such a good couple.” 

Kevin grinned back. “Thank you, Betty. I know you’ve always been our biggest supporter.” 

Veronica chose that moment to gracefully swoop through the kitchen door, her hair tied back in a playful ponytail, the base high on her scalp. She wore tight denim shorts with the lining of the pockets visible at the bottom, which was frayed along the hemline. Her blouse was billowy and soft, thin white with red and blue flowers on the front. 

“I’m so glad your mom decided to put on this Fourth of July party, Betty. I always get extra festive around the holidays, no matter what holiday that is.” She looked at Kevin and Betty, standing close in interrupted conversation. 

“Umm, did I miss some juicy gossip? What’s going on?” 

Betty grinned and resumed her chopping of the bell peppers before sliding them off of the chopping board into the collection bowl. “Kevin here was just filling me in on the latest between him and Joaquin.” 

“Ooh, please spread the dirt, honey,” Veronica encouraged as she leaned over the island counter. 

Kevin chuckled and reached for the wooden skewers, spearing each of the veggies in the bowl in succession before placing them on the grill pan. “Doris Day over here doesn’t want all of the dirty dirt so I can fill you in on that later. Basically, I was just telling her how well it was going. The flames are being fanned and it’s never felt hotter!” He sent her a playful wink as he held a skewer up suggestively. 

“Yes, please! There’s got to be somebody’s sex life around here I can live vicariously through.” 

Kevin shot her a sideways glace and a smirk. “You mean to tell me you’re not climbing that tall angry dark haired tree night after night? He’s got bad boy practically tattooed all over him. If I wasn’t with Joaquin, I’d be drooling all over myself.” 

Veronica looked confused momentarily before the light went off in her brain. “You mean Sweet Pea?” she asked in disgust. 

“Shit yeah,” Kevin replied. “The way you two go at it, I don’t know how you don’t rip each other’s clothes off. A simple balancing of the hate through awesome, bone crippling sex.” 

Betty laughed as she reached inside the fridge for a bowl of cold diced potatoes and a large jar of mayonnaise. She placed them next to a small bowl prefilled with diced green scallions and large chunks of cooked bacon. 

“That’s disgusting, Kevin. I wouldn’t let that mongrel put his filthy paws anywhere near my perfect skin. Do you know how long it takes to get my skin looking this flawless? He’s not worth the damage.” 

Kevin rolled his eyes as Betty instructed Veronica to mix together the ingredients for baked potato salad. 

“Princess, it would do you some good to get a little dirty, and he looks just like the type to get you there. Ugh, just imagine rolling around with him in the grass, getting _actually_ dirty as he fucks you into oblivion.” 

Veronica looked positively scandalized as Kevin narrated a hypothetical sex scene with Sweet Pea. It wasn’t the language that bothered her. Veronica could talk trashy smut as much as the next single woman in her 20’s. What disturbed her was how much the thought of Sweet Pea deep inside her brought a long-forgotten tingling back to her toes and a sweet hum of desire to her stomach. 

Veronica had entirely too much pride to admit that every argument with Sweet Pea brought her closer to caving – one short fuse away from pulling him back into her room and tearing him apart. 

But she couldn’t admit these thoughts out loud, too concerned with maintaining the proper image of a woman composed, not one to be taken down lightly at the thought of an asshole with attitude ripping off her clothes and ravishing her. 

She dumped all of the ingredients into a large bowl and began mixing with a wooden spoon. “Trust me, I could do a lot better than Sweet Pea, even in this dry town. Besides, I don’t need his hands, no matter how long and nimble those fingers look, to get me off. I’m quite skilled in that area – thank you very much.” 

The two teased each other back and forth as Betty continued to flit about the kitchen, gathering up dishes for the afternoon backyard feast. Her mother came in with a small load of last minute provisions before she laid out the chicken marinating in the fridge onto a large plate, dusting the pieces with seasonings and dried herbs. 

Together, the threesome and Alice carried out all of the dishes and placed them along a table covered in a red, white, and blue tablecloth. Alice had dug out old paper decorations from last year and embellished the table and back patio with streamers and signs celebrating Independence Day. There was a cooler filled with several bags of ice and canned sodas, and one long trough that hosted two kegs full of beer, enough to please the Serpents and their guests through the night. The bar was officially closed for the holiday, but enough regulars were invited to the BBQ that it seemed nearly pointless to shut the Wyrm down for business. 

The boys were busy sprucing up the back field, lining up tables and chairs for dining. FP and Sweet Pea spent an hour setting up the fireworks display, going over the sequence as they organized each explosive device. Jughead and Joaquin did Alice’s biding, resigned to helping her decorate while Betty, Kevin, and Veronica finished icing the cupcakes for dessert. Toni had her own corner of the kitchen as she finished capping the load of Jell-O shots she had made the night before while Cheryl made herself comfortable in one of the patio chairs, lounging about in a tiny red bikini with sunglasses on trying to catch a tan. 

A couple of hours before the sun began to set, Alice and FP worked on grilling the meats, the latter aproned up and wielding thick metal tongs as he flipped each chicken leg, thigh, and breast. Kevin and Toni made a wager on a round of horseshoes, exchanging witty insults across the metal stakes in the yard as Veronica and Betty cheered them on, encouraged by the spiked punch in both of their red plastic cups. 

Betty watched as Jughead pumped himself another beer from the keg, his muscles exposed through the cut-off sleeves of his old t-shirt. She watched as the muscles flexed with every push and pull of the hand pump, her mouth watering as she imagined his fingers flexing in the same manner within her. His eyes shot up and met hers from across the patio and he could read the lust there in her gaze. 

She considered breaking the stare, worried what she might give away the longer they looked at each other, but suddenly she didn’t care. This game between them of avoiding each other, perhaps a reaction to the intense make out they shared a few days ago, had grown tired and Betty was ready for round two. She had lost enough sleep thinking about Jughead’s lips heavy on hers. 

She licked her own and watched as a flicker of his own lust swept across his face. 

“Betty, come make your plate.” 

She broke her gaze as her head snapped to the side. Her mother gestured toward the food table and pointed to the grill. “Chicken’s ready, honey. Come get it while it’s hot.” 

She nodded to her mother, turning back to catch Jughead but he was already gone, sipping from his beer while conversing playfully with Tall Boy near one of the picnic tables. 

After filling her plate with a barbequed chicken leg, cold potato salad, two watermelon slices and a single veggie skewer, Betty joined Veronica at one of the tables in the lawn, the rim of her cup trapped between her teeth. She balanced her plate and silverware as she set them down onto the table, straddling the bench seat as she reached for her cup. 

Veronica was busy shuffling around the same bite of potato salad on her plate absentmindedly, her eyes caught on the sight of Sweet Pea tossing a football to Joaquin in the distance. Betty turned to see what caught her friend’s attention and she smirked. 

“See something that sounds better than BBQ?” 

Veronica snapped her attention back to Betty, shrugging off the moment as she finally brought the bite to her lips. She chewed and swallowed it back with a mouthful of punch. “The food’s amazing, Betty. You and Kevin did a good job with the potato salad.” 

“Veronica – you made the potato salad.” 

“What? Oh right.” Veronica laughed lightly. “Well, I didn’t make the ingredients. I merely mixed them together as you so kindly instructed.” 

They finished their meal with light conversation and another helping of punch. Both Betty and Veronica could feel the easy buzz from the alcohol, laughter mixing with the food in their bellies. The sun was beginning to fade as Sweet Pea and FP prepared their supplies to kick off the fireworks show. Betty collected her and Veronica’s plates and carried them to the trash can, the bottom of her dress billowing softly in the evening summer breeze. 

After disposing of their litter, she ambled over to the dessert table, placing two cupcakes and a handful of chocolate & peanut butter covered Chex mix on the plate for her and Veronica to munch on. Jughead stepped up beside her, leaning over her shoulder to survey the sweets. 

“Cupcakes look good, Betts.” 

Surprised by his easy manner, Betty tensed as she felt the heat of his breath on her ear. She tried to brush it off. 

“They’re devil’s food with vanilla buttercream.” 

“My favorite,” he commented and she could almost feel the air between them grow thick with a tense, sexually charged fog. She turned to face him, finding him almost uncomfortably close to her. His eyes were dark, trapped on her lips, and it took all of her strength not to toss the plate of desserts aside and assault his mouth with her own. 

Jughead reached down between them and grabbed one of the cupcakes off of the plate, bringing the top to his lips where he bit down. He chewed the chocolate confection and licked the frosting off of his lips. She knew he surely must be teasing her on purpose. 

“Taste good?” she asked. _Two could play that game._

“Always,” he replied, and she felt a shiver as goosebumps broke out across her skin. She wasn’t sure if she could blame the breeze or the words on his lips, his breath warm and sweet like melted chocolate. Suddenly, he stepped back, reaching for another cupcake off of the table before crossing the lawn to join his father by the fireworks. 

Betty let out a heavy exhale. To her left, she watched as Kevin and Joaquin crept through the patio door back into the bar, holding hands as they laughed softly, mischief in the air between them. She smiled to herself, catching her bearings, replacing the cupcake Jughead took on her plate before joining Veronica back on the lawn. 

As she walked, she tried to ignore the urge to press her thighs together as a light gathering of liquid heat from her encounter with Jughead formed on her panties under her dress. 

///////

**Scene Six**

“Kevin!” Joaquin whispered as the sandy-haired man holding his hand circled around to smack his ass. They continued to grope as they kissed their way through the main bar room and down the side hallway. 

Kevin leaned in to nibble on Joaquin’s earlobe, their bodies pressed against the hall wall. “I can’t wait to ride that big dick.” 

“Shh!” Joaquin whispered, his cheeks exploding in a red hue. “We’ve got to be quiet if we’re going to sneak off and fool around.” 

Kevin’s face broke out in a naughty grin as his hands flew down to grip Joaquin’s ass through his jeans. Joaquin groaned softly as he reached to the side and turned the nearest door knob. 

They tumbled into the back room, Kevin’s hands clutching the thick leather lapels of Joaquin’s jacket as Joaquin slipped his hands through Kevin’s sandy hair. Their lips clashed and tongues mingled as their bodies were drawn to the pool table. Joaquin’s hands slipped down from Kevin’s hair to trail down and grip his hips, pushing him backward toward the table. 

“Lean back, baby. I want to taste you.” 

Kevin followed Joaquin’s instructions, leaning against the wooden siding of the pool table, his hands gripping the edge. Joaquin bent down, his knees landing softly against the carpeted flooring. His hands traveled up Kevin’s jean-clad thighs, squeezing lightly as he went. When he was eye level with the zipper, Joaquin teased his palm along Kevin’s length and slowly pulled the zipper down. 

Kevin leaned his head back, anticipation causing the blood to flow directly to the soft flesh in his pants. He was growing increasingly and achingly hard. When Joaquin planted a soft kiss along his length through his jeans, Kevin let a soft moan escape his lips. 

Joaquin reached up and grabbed the hem of Kevin’s jeans, shimmying them down just below Kevin’s knees. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Kevin’s cock through the thin barrier of his royal blue boxer briefs. His tongue darted out and swept along the length, the warmth of Joaquin’s spit through the fabric driving Kevin wild as he groaned loudly. 

“Baby,” Joaquin mumbled, his lips still pressed against Kevin. “This was supposed to be a secret, remember?” 

Kevin chuckled softly. “Sorry, you just feel so good.” He brought his hand up to rest in Joaquin’s hair, carding the black strands gently. 

Joaquin palmed Kevin’s cock through his briefs, rolling the shaft around in his hand as it twitched and grew. His other hand came up to press against Kevin’s stomach, applying light pressure as he continued to stroke and tease. When his tongue met the tip, Kevin’s hips involuntarily bucked forward. 

“I want your mouth on me, baby,” Kevin pleaded. 

Joaquin grinned, the hand over Kevin’s stomach trailing down to yank the elastic band of the briefs. Kevin’s hard cock sprang out, the skin taut as veins bulged. There was already a drop of pre-cum at the tip, tempting Joaquin as his tongue dipped out to lap it up. His hand continued to pump Kevin up and down as his other hand reached over to scoop his balls. He juggled them around, applying gentle pressure with his fingertips. 

Joaquin lifted the shaft upward, the tip nearly pressed up against Kevin’s stomach. He leaned forward and swept his tongue up and down the bottom surface of his dick, tracing the thin strip of skin there that was exceptionally tight. 

Kevin’s abdomen flexed, the feeling of Joaquin’s warm tongue against his exposed cock filling him with a familiar buzz of desire in his stomach. When Joaquin’s tongue reached the tip of his length and he engulfed him fully, lips pressed like slick tight walls around him, Kevin gripped his hair even tighter. 

With his other hand, Kevin inched his fingers north to circle around his pecs, pinching the nipples lightly through the cotton material of his t-shirt. He tugged and teased himself as Joaquin worked him below, taking him in and out, in and out, slowly, his tongue flat inside his mouth to run along the underside of Kevin’s cock. 

Joaquin removed his mouth from Kevin’s shaft to cup one of his balls softly with his lips, sucking on the skin and tracing patterns with his tongue. He moaned as Kevin’s hand tightened in his hair, the strands pushed back along the hairline of his forehead. 

Joaquin’s other hand returned to Kevin’s dick, jacking him off while his mouth continued to work on his balls. He alternated between each, showing tender affection with soft kisses and sucks, going slow against the sensitive skin. His tongue slipped out and drug along the crease between each ball and up the shaft before he pulled Kevin’s entire length back into his mouth. 

“Fuck, baby. I forgot how good you were with your mouth.” Kevin continued to moan, driven by the vibrations along his skin as Joaquin moaned and hummed with Kevin’s cock deep in his mouth. 

Kevin’s hips thrusted back and forth, his hand still glued to Joaquin’s head as he held him in place. Joaquin allowed him to push further, deep throating him just before his gag reflex began to kick in. Joaquin could feel the small curly black hairs just above Kevin’s cock tickle his nose, but he was too occupied with the hot twitching flesh and unique taste of Kevin’s skin inside his mouth. 

He released Kevin from with a hard pop, then chose to deep throat him once again. Kevin’s head flew back again, the sensation of climax just on the edge. Joaquin could feel him getting close, the quivering of Kevin’s cock hinting at near completion. He pulled back, slipping Kevin from his mouth, choosing to place soft kisses on the tip instead. 

“Not yet,” he teased. “I’m not done tasting you.” 

Kevin groaned, the need to drive himself deep into Joaquin’s mouth warring with the gentle pleasure he received from his feather-light kisses. He loved being teased, the overwhelming ecstasy that built within him met with the abrupt halt that came from coming so close to the edge before stopping. 

Joaquin’s hand slid around to grip Kevin’s ass, squeezing the muscle tight as his mouth suddenly swooped down to envelope Kevin’s cock completely, quickening his pace as he bobbed up and down. Kevin’s hips bucked forward and he cried out, slammed with the immediate sensation to spill every drop deep into his lover’s mouth. 

Joaquin’s lips slipped down to the base, working his cheek muscles as he sucked, swallowing his own accumulated spit as he went. He could feel his own cock throbbing in his pants, begging for release, but he was so driven by Kevin’s moans his only desire was to bring him to conclusion. Joaquin’s other hand came up to pump Kevin’s cock, following the movements of his lips and the trail of hot saliva left behind. When his lips were just on the tip, they froze and sucked softly, gentle pressure accentuated by another round of humming. 

“I’m so close, Quin. Make me come,” Kevin begged. 

Joaquin’s lips slipped down and took Kevin completely in his mouth, resuming his up and down motion. Kevin could feel himself about to come, his ass cheeks squeezing together and flexing as the urge to shoot built like the loading of a gun. 

He had just enough time to warn Joaquin before he convulsed, his entire hot load filling Joaquin’s mouth. The black-haired biker swallowed it back, his lips moving across Kevin’s sensitive cock, causing him to hop back half an inch. Kevin could feel another spasm coming, bracing himself against the pool table with one hand as the other gripped Joaquin’s hair painfully tight. 

Joaquin moaned as the throbbing of Kevin’s cock continued until the flesh softened in his mouth, the last bit of Kevin’s come swallowed with his spit. He released him from his mouth softly, watching it land gently in his hand as he palmed the flesh and placed it back inside Kevin’s underwear, pulling the elastic band up. 

Joaquin stood and planted a firm kiss on Kevin’s mouth, the flavor of his saliva and Kevin’s ejaculate intertwined in their tonguing. He could feel Kevin pushing his body forward, their feet dancing in a circle before Joaquin found himself pressed against the pool table. He watched with dark eyes as Kevin dropped to his own knees, his tongue running along his top lip. 

“Your turn,” he whispered, his voice thick and husky, and Joaquin could feel his eyes rolling in the back of his head as his cock was released from the confines of his jeans and buried deep in Kevin’s hot mouth. 

///////

**Scene Seven**

The fireworks show went off without a hitch, an explosion of gold, white, red, blue, and green dusting the night sky in the back field of the Whyte Wyrm. The families of the Serpents camped out along the lawn, resting on blankets they had each brought or the picnic tables provided. Betty and Veronica cuddled together, joined halfway through the show by a flushed looking Kevin and Joaquin, as they watched the sparks dance above them. 

FP, Sweet Pea, and Jughead clapped each other on the back after the display, pleased with their crowd’s reaction to their hard work and planning. They walked away from their station out in the middle of the field, a safe distance from the bar, and joined the rest of the party as everyone gathered inside the bar. The Serpents with kids departed fairly early, eager to get their tired young ones to bed, while the remaining adults resumed the party indoors. 

What was left of the kegs was dragged inside, along with the cooler of sodas and ice. Toni brought out her Jell-O shots and lined them up along the bar. Betty tossed one back, perched on a bar stool while the soft sounds of the jukebox played overhead. 

FP had convinced Alice to join him in a dance and they swayed along to the smoky voice of Greg Gonzalez from the band Cigarettes After Sex. Just as the song was transitioning from a cover of REO Speedwagon’s “Keep on Loving You” into an original tune called “Sweet,” Jughead approached from across the bar. 

“Care to dance, Betty?” 

He looked so dangerously handsome in that moment, hair wild and sweaty from the outdoors, his old tattered t-shirt and tight denim jeans giving off that James Dean vibe. Before she could even say the words, Betty could feel herself slipping off of the stool and accepting his outstretched hand. 

“That would be nice, Jug.” 

They gathered in between Alice and FP and Toni and Cheryl, the two pairings lost in the sway of the music. Betty wrapped her right arm around Jughead’s neck, her left hand falling into his as she allowed him to lead. She leaned her head down onto his shoulder and felt his hand that rested on her lower back finger the tips of her hair, curled and loose. 

They continued to sway, lost within their own rhythm as their bodies were pressed closed together. In those five minutes, everything felt so easy. There was no aggressive tension, no hostility or drama – just sweet, uncomplicated swaying. 

They both closed their eyes and slowed their movement, falling into a pace more attune to their bodies than the actual music. Betty felt Jughead press a soft kiss on her temple and she sighed softly. For a moment, Betty wished she could freeze time and continue feeling this soft haze of hope that Jughead was letting his guard down for her. She was sure the alcohol had enhanced their ability to both be bold, and she instantly felt grateful for Veronica’s homemade punch and Toni’s stout Jell-O shots. 

Beside her, FP twirled Alice about, laughter escaping her mother’s lips as FP pulled her back in for a dancer’s embrace. They exchanged compliments here and there as they moved to the music, their feet light and effortless. 

Toni and Cheryl’s lips were glued to each other as their hands groped one another there on the dance floor. The brunette leaned in and whispered something sinful into the redhead’s ear, causing her to tilt her head back in throaty laughter. 

Cheryl then leapt up into Toni’s arms, wrapping her arms tight like a noose around her neck, and leaned her torso back, her red hair raining down her spine with an air of wild abandon. Toni reached down with her teeth, bared and bold, and yanked down the top cup of Cheryl’s thin red bikini, exposing a single creamy white breast with its dusky pink nipple to the entire bar. Cheryl let out another throaty laugh, her modesty nonexistent, and Toni retracted her teeth to close her plump plum-colored lips over Cheryl’s perky peak. 

Toni began to walk forward blindly, her mouth focused on driving Cheryl wild, as instinct carried her along the path to her bedroom. Soon, the hoots and hollering from the bar tenants were washed out in the sounds of Cheryl whimpering softly in the darkened space of Toni’s room. The bed was still unmade, the sheets tousled from their late morning wake-up fuck, and Cheryl’s body made a welcome addition, her back coming into contact with the cool jersey cotton. Toni looked down at the fiery temptation of skin and bones and curves beneath her and felt the hunger spread. 

It wasn’t often Toni confessed that another woman could get her so excited so quick, but even she had to admit that one glance at Cheryl had warm liquid pooling between her legs instantly. 

Toni’s bedroom was draped in shades of purple and plum, the drapes thin as the outside patio light bled through to bathe the room in warm yellow. There were discarded beer bottles on the floor, her leather jacket draped across a red velvet chair, and an ashtray perched on the side table, half-filled with old cigarette butts and tiny mountains of soot. All around the room, the walls were littered with posters of motorcycles and half-naked women rubbing various body parts against the motor, against the handlebars, against the gears, but the only woman who truly captivated Toni was writhing there in front of her across a field of royal mauve. 

Cheryl’s eyes were heavy with want, her lips pouty and perfect. She wiggled out of her jean shorts and tossed them to the side of the room, laying back again among the cool spread. As she watched Toni take in every inch of her body with her eyes, Cheryl felt the excitement spread like wildfire through her bloodstream. She reached up to finger her own nipple, twirling it between her thumb and index finger. She could hear Toni growl softly and power consumed Cheryl like thick red smog. 

“You gonna fuck me, or will I need to lap up all of this wetness by myself?” Cheryl made a play for her bikini bottoms, the tips of her fingers lingering along the edge of the flimsy fabric. Before she could dive below to the pool of slick wet heat, Toni leaned down over the bed, gripping Cheryl’s wrist and hoisting it over her head. 

“That’s my fucking pussy,” Toni whispered, her lips inches from Cheryl’s. “Maybe, if you’re a good girl, I’ll let you have a taste.” 

Cheryl moaned softly, the sound captured by the force of Toni’s kiss driven by a wild desire to start a fire right there in that bed. When Toni’s head snapped back, breaking the kiss to stare down at Cheryl, the sight of her red hair fanning across the sheets confirmed that the flames were already smoldering and smoky. 

Toni’s other hand reached down, trailing softly along the path of Cheryl’s smooth thigh, before she shoved her palm roughly into Cheryl’s bikini bottoms, sliding two fingers into the tight depth of Cheryl’s pussy walls. The crown of Cheryl’s head dug back into the sheets, her back arching at the feel of Toni’s fingers pumping in and out of her, slow and fast, slow and fast. 

Toni’s lips came down to nibble across the exposed jawline around Cheryl’s chin, eliciting a few well-earned whimpers and whispers from Cheryl’s blossoming, wide open mouth. She swirled her thumb over Cheryl’s clit, and their bodies collided as Cheryl’s chest was thrown further up into the air, her one exposed breast caressed by the thick air of the bedroom. Toni released Cheryl’s wrist to reach down and rip off the rest of the bikini top, her lips immediately finding purchase with the newly exposed nipple, her tongue lapping at the taut skin with fervor. 

Toni took her time, her lips working their way around the soft pink peak of Cheryl’s breast, the texture like silk bunched up, creamy and warm. Cheryl’s hand flew up to grip the pillow behind her, the feeling of Toni’s mouth on her chest driving her closer and closer to drowning as she felt her wetness spill out of her over Toni’s fingers. 

In the briefest of moments, as Toni’s fingers slipped out of Cheryl, the redhead called out in a desperate plea, anxious for the feel of her lover’s thrusts in the aching apex between her thighs. However, she was quickly silenced as her mouth was met with the warm, salty taste of her own desire. Toni had slipped her fingers between Cheryl’s plump lips, their eyes both dilated with want. 

“Here baby, let me share.” Toni watched, starvation heavy in her gaze, as Cheryl feasted upon her fingers, her tongue swirling around the crevices of both digits, desperate for every drop like licking a bowl of sweet cake batter clean. 

Toni leaned in, the ache between her own legs starting to travel beyond her legs and up into her stomach. Her tongue reached out to sweep across the fleshy part of Cheryl’s earlobe, her voice a sultry tone laced with danger and desire. “You want me to eat out that pussy?” 

Cheryl reached around to grab Toni’s wild mess of hair in her hand, pulling hard to bring her lips back to hers, smashing them together in a fierce kiss. When they broke free, Cheryl looked utterly mad with lust. 

“I want my pussy all over your face.” 

The smirk that crossed Toni’s face sent a shiver down Cheryl’s spine. Slowly, like the teasing slither of a serpent, Toni traveled down the length of Cheryl’s quivering body, planting soft kisses and tongue dances across her skin. When she arrived at the pair of deep red cherries and the nickname “Cherry Bomb” tattooed on Cheryl’s right hip, Toni’s tongue swept a long line across the ink. Both of her hands came down to grip the hem of Cheryl’s bathing suit bottoms, inching them down in synchronicity with Cheryl’s soft moans between breaths. 

Cheryl felt the fabric slip beyond her knees, trapped around her ankles, and Toni weaved in between. Her lips came up to rest against the soft fleshy zone of Cheryl’s clit, pressing a firm kiss there before blowing warm air slowly. Cheryl cried out, her hands shooting down to tangle deep into the sheets, and Toni chuckled, the whoosh of air coming from her lips causing Cheryl to cry out again in tandem. 

“I could spend hours between your legs,” Toni whispered, the vibration of her voice echoing through Cheryl’s skin to elicit shivers. “Just sucking, sipping, tasting you,” Toni continued, landing a soft kiss against Cheryl’s lower lips between each word. 

Toni’s tongue landed softly along Cheryl’s slit, the skin quivering and twitching as it became engorged with longing. She traveled along its length, from bottom to top, moving up and down, drinking in the smooth sap that gathered there at her entrance. The taste was tangy, fresh and delicious like a summer peach, perfectly ripe – the kind you devour in haste as the sticky, sugary juices run down your fingers. 

“I love your thick, juicy pussy lips, baby,” Toni praised, her mind becoming foggy with the thick haze of lust. 

When her mouth came just above Cheryl’s clit, her lips crashed down onto the sensitive bundle, sucking softly while she brought a single finger to probe at Cheryl’s opening, tickling the edge with her gentle prodding. 

One of Cheryl’s fisted hands came up to roughly grip her left tit, kneading the supple flesh like dough. Her chin tilted down, her eyes locked on the sight of Toni lost within her dripping wet core. 

“Lick every inch of me, baby,” she encouraged, her head falling back in staccato as Toni’s suckling and probing caused her thoughts to snap and disconnect. 

The squishy sounds of the friction caused by Toni’s fingers in harmony with the swollen damp center between Cheryl’s legs echoed across the purple room, a record that was quickly spinning out of control. 

Cheryl whimpered, her hand still working its magic on her own tortured breast. “I love the way it sounds when you fuck me. Can you hear how wet I am for you?” 

Toni groaned against Cheryl’s clit and reveled in the way it made Cheryl’s thighs quiver and clench against her head. “I love every fucking thing about your pussy, ma chere,” Toni replied, the thick accent of her Cajun origins slipping out, and Cheryl’s heart took a hefty leap, realizing how in that moment Toni was losing herself to her vulnerabilities there between her legs. 

Feeling empowered, Cheryl reached down and wove her fingers through Toni’s brown and pink-tinged strands. She could feel the tingling in her toes begin to build. “Tell me whose pussy you like best, baby.” 

Toni’s lips broke free from Cheryl’s clit, her tongue slipping out to dance along the outer entrance of Cheryl’s folds. 

“Only yours, baby. You taste so good.” And just like that, she dove back in, feasting on Cheryl’s pussy like a last supper. 

Cheryl felt like praying, praising whichever deity had delivered this kind of pleasure, instantly grateful for the incredible woman below her that was treating her body like a temple at Sabbath. 

“That’s right. No one tastes as good as me, baby. Don’t you fucking forget it.” 

Driven by the dominance thrust out in Cheryl’s words, Toni decided to match with her own brand of power, shoving another finger deep into Cheryl’s core. The sparks that had begun to form in Cheryl’s toes were fanned by the fire behind Toni’s fingers pumping, and she felt the quick zap of her control go up in flames. 

The momentary crippling of her orgasm ripped through her body, paralyzing her limbs just as she was arching her back, her body crashing back down into the safety net of the sheets now slick with sweat. Toni felt a gush of warm fluid come creeping out of Cheryl’s core and she lapped up every drop as the aftershocks worked their way through Cheryl’s body, weaving in and out of her system like live wires cut loose and free. 

Sated and now well fed, Toni climbed back up the length of the bed, her lips quickly crashing against Cheryl’s. The redhead sucked on Toni’s top lip while the latter worked on bruising Cheryl’s bottom, soft moans escaping in between their joined mouths. 

Cheryl, now reenergized with a rebound burst of desire, shoved Toni’s body back on the bed, the gleam of lust still wicked and heavy in her eyes. She pressed a kiss against the red tattooed pair of lips on Toni’s neck. 

“You are way too clothed for me to have any fun,” she whispered, sultry and seductive. As Cheryl’s hands traveled down to grip the hem of her shirt, exposing the delicate flowers wrapped around her ribcage that faded into gray and the words “All beauty fades into ash,” Toni could only toss her head back and laugh. 

She was so far gone for this girl, she had no fucking clue what she was going to do. 

///////

**Scene Eight**

Back in the bar, Jughead and Betty continued their dance to another tune, joined again by FP and Alice and other Serpent couples around the bar. Veronica was posted up at the bar, laughing loudly with Kevin as they took round after round of Jell-O shots, getting drunk while Joaquin nursed his beer nearby. Sweet Pea was sitting in a booth with another Serpent, their beers fresh while they chain smoked. He joked with the Serpent as they played a round of cards, but every now and then his eyes would travel up to watch Veronica across the bar. 

“You know, I thought you were going to keep on ignoring me. It was starting to drive me insane.” 

Betty smiled lightly, her head coming up from Jughead’s shoulder to address him. “Okay, you have been the one ignoring me. I’ve merely been trying to give you space.” 

“It’s kind of hard to give me space when we live in the same building.” 

Betty laughed lightly. “You’ve got me there. I don’t know – it just seemed like after our last conversation, you really had no interest in continuing any sort of dialogue with me.” 

She felt Jughead shrug. “I guess maybe I got tired of having nothing to say to you.” 

“Meaning you have something to say now?” 

He appraised her face slowly and she watched as his eyes landed on her lips. His voice was husky as he spoke suggestively, “How about we have a different kind of dialogue instead?” 

She was picking up on his meaning and decided to play along. She leaned in closer to whisper, “What did you have in mind?” 

Without saying a word, he broke their swaying motion and reached down for her hand. He led her out of the bar and back through the patio screen door, along the side of the Wyrm until they turned a corner. As soon as they were out of sight, he pressed her body against the sharp brick of the building and began assaulting her lips with his own, mashing them down as his hands traveled up the exposed skin of her thighs to grip her hips. 

Her arms immediately came up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. She could taste the beer on his breath, mixed with the sweet punch and vodka of her own, as their tongues danced in between their open mouths. Though they continued their embrace, their lips pressing kisses across each other’s skin, Betty couldn’t ignore the pang that she felt in her heart. 

It wasn’t lost on her the significance of this day. This was the anniversary of the first time they had made love, only feet above them in Jughead’s bedroom. She could remember as vivid as if it were happening now – the way he looked at her as she lay beneath him, the weight of his body as he slid into her, the feeling of their joined climax before he told her how much he loved her – all of it came crashing down like a wave when Betty broke free from their kiss and saw the look in his eyes. 

She remembered his plea, asking her to never leave, even then the beautiful moment between them tainted by the painful memory of his mom and sister. She felt instant shame, knowing she broke that vow and left him stranded while she took off for greener pastures. Though it was hard to say she regretted her choices, she had to admit his anger made sense to her and she couldn’t deny that she deserved every ounce of hate he felt. 

But right now, there was nothing hateful there in his eyes but rather something hinting at love. It took her breath away, the blue of his eyes deep and rich and glowing as they surveyed the skin of her face, the red of her cheeks, the green of her eyes. She brought her lips back to his, the urge to kiss now desperate. He matched her pace, one of his hands reaching down to grope her breast while the other trailed a direct line down her stomach to the bottom of her dress. His fingers disappeared under the hem as he hiked up the fabric and lost himself under the elastic band of her panties. 

He found her soaked and wanting and he moaned softly into her mouth. Their lips broke free as his forehead came to rest on hers, his eyes traveling south to watch as his fingers pumped in and out of her wetness. She closed her eyes and reveled in the pleasure she felt, nearly overwhelmed by the burning sensation to have his dick deep inside her. 

“Fuck Jughead,” she whispered thickly into his ear. “I want you right now.” She hiked her leg up along his leg, giving him better access to her throbbing center. He removed his fingers as he pressed his hips to hers, grinding the hard bulge in his pants against the wet front of her underwear. He reached down to grip her leg that was clenched tight around him, giving him leverage as he dug deeper against her. 

“Goddamn, Betty, I need to make you come.” He shifted his hips back and his index and middle fingers returned inside her, pressing his digits deep to the base of his palm. He drove them in and out of her, drowning in the sounds of her moans and whimpers as they flooded his ears. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to make her come around his fingers before he drove his achingly hard cock deep inside, fucking ten years of love and hate within her. 

Just as he was feeling the familiar quivering of her walls around his finger, there was a sharp crashing sound coming from the front of the Wyrm, the loud boom of an explosion echoing throughout the lot. Immediately, Jughead removed his fingers from her and they took off back inside the bar into the main room. 

Everyone else was beginning to gather at the entrance, their eyes glued to the sight of the shack positioned near the front of the parking lot smothered in thick orange flames. FP took off like a bullet, running for the water hose coiled up by the side of the bar. Sweet Pea joined him, helping to unravel the tubing while FP was turning the knob on full blast. 

Kevin and Joaquin grabbed the cooler with ice and came running from behind the bar and out the front door. Alice grabbed an extra bucket from the maintenance closet and carried it over to the hose for filling. Betty and Veronica were standing in the doorway as Cheryl joined them, throwing a shirt over her bare chest. 

“What the fuck happened?” she screeched, watching as Toni was helping to carry the hose over to the shack. Sweet Pea carried the bucket and tossed the water onto the flames, hoping to extinguish them around the foundation as the hose worked to snuff out the fire on the roof. 

“We were just sitting around drinking when all of a sudden this blast occurred,” Veronica explained, her hands cupping the sides of her neck nervously. 

Betty watched as Jughead bolted from around the back of the bar and through the side gate with the fire extinguisher they had set up for the fireworks. He pulled the pin and aimed the nozzle at the base of the fire. “Did anyone see how it happened?” 

Veronica shot her a suspicious glance. “I couldn’t see but I heard a few motorcycles riding off right after.” 

“Ghoulies,” Cheryl said matter-of-factly. “My brother did this. He _would_ do something this cowardly.” 

It took another half hour for the club to get the flames under control and snuffed out. As the men and Toni stalked back toward the entrance of the bar, their faces were painted in rage. 

_Retribution will come._

“Those fucking Ghoulies are fucking aching for it,” Sweet Pea cursed, balling his fists up as he brushed past Betty and Veronica in the doorway. He shot Cheryl a dirty look. 

“This shit isn’t going to sit, Pea. We’ve got to take action.” Jughead looked utterly murderous, his face scrunched up into a deep scowl. He had soot over his cheeks and he smelled of smoke. 

“Then let’s fucking fight, Jug!” Toni exclaimed, her usual casual appearance changed into something far more severe and frightening. “I’ll go get my gun now.” 

Jughead took a second to consider, then nodded. “You’re right. Everyone grab your best and bring them out. Let’s assemble and march in fifteen.” 

The gang separated, leaving Kevin, Betty, Veronica, Cheryl, and Alice standing around the bar. Alice was quick to action, enlisting Cheryl to help her brew coffee behind the bar to sober them up before they rode, her maternal contribution to their safety. Veronica had gone to the door of the bar and turned the lock, sliding the metal rod into place to secure it. Betty disappeared, then returned to the main room, the gang’s cuts collected from the back room and laid out across a pool table. Kevin began to assemble various supplies for first aid in preparation for their return, padding the kit with different sizes of bandages and a tube of antibiotic cream. 

Soon, the men and Toni gathered at the bar, weapons spread out like a buffet over the wooden surface. Jughead chose his .45 mm Smith & Wesson M&P series handgun, its recoil smooth and its reliability top in its league. Sweet Pea was happy with his .40 mm Springfield Armory XD, but packed an extra pair of brass knuckles into the inside pocket of his cut just in case. He also had his pump action shotgun with its classic Remington wood handle slung across his back. 

Toni tucked her Glock G19 into her back pocket, its safety activated. She cracked her neck and stretched out her arms, just as anxious for melee as Sweet Pea. Joaquin was a bit more practical, his .45 mm Dan Wesson Specialist with its night sights and ambidextrous thumb safety locked into his pocket holster with a snap of the button. 

Kevin approached the dark-haired biker and cupped his face with his hands. “I don’t want you to go,” he pleaded softly. “I just got you back.” 

Joaquin smiled and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “I know, babe. I’ll be back soon, though, and you can have all of me that you want.” 

“You better,” Kevin threatened playfully, “otherwise I’m going to kick your cute little ass.” 

Cheryl and Toni were exchanging heated kisses, Cheryl’s red-tipped fingers running through Toni’s brown and pink tendrils. She pulled on the bottom of Toni’s lip as they disengaged. “It’s so damn hot to watch you go off to war.” 

Toni chuckled, reaching up to caress one of Cheryl’s breasts. “And it’s so fucking hot to hear how ride or die you’re being right now.” She leaned in and whispered into the redhead’s ear, her grip around her breast tightening. “I can’t wait to get back and fuck you.” 

Veronica folded her arms across her chest as she stood by Sweet Pea, watching as the couples around the bar exchanged well wishes. The two glanced at each other, willing the other to speak. Veronica broke from her stubborn streak first. 

“I think it’s ridiculous that you’re doing this.” 

“Well, it’s a miracle I don’t have to answer to you.” 

Veronica opened her mouth to retort, but held back. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Just don’t die, okay?” 

Sweet Pea looked taken aback, but bounced back quickly and smirked. “What’s it to you, princess?” 

She sighed and dropped her arms from across her chest. “Honestly, I don’t fucking care what you do. I get why you have to go and I need you to watch him.” She pointed to Jughead, who was huddled together by Betty. “I need him back alive otherwise it’s going to kill her.” 

Sweet Pea tilted his head slightly, the smirk still on his face. “Got it. Any other demands?” 

“Yeah – like I said, don’t die.” The corners of her lips turned up in a small grin. “Who else am I going to nag if you’re not here?” She could feel a small lump begin to form in her throat at the thought. 

“Aww, you care about me, princess?” 

She shrugged and shot him a dirty look. He chuckled, his laughter a bit throaty, and he towered over her as he stepped closer. He leaned down, his mouth an inch from her ear, and he whispered, “I’ll come back for you, Veronica.” 

She felt the shiver travel down her spine, her thoughts traveling into sinful territory at the sensation of his hot breath on her skin. She reached up and pushed against his firm chest. 

“Don’t piss me off, SP, otherwise you won’t get a chance to take down the Ghoulies.” 

He chuckled as he stepped backward, the shotgun across his back jostling from his laughter. “I got the message, princess.” 

Veronica blushed as she watched him walk to his bike and mount. 

Betty and Jughead stood facing each other, the air between them thick with unsaid words and feelings – confusion, lust, care, love. He brought a comforting arm up to run down her own, landing at her hand where he laced their fingers. 

“Betts, hold down the fort here, okay? We shouldn’t be too long.” 

“Jug –“ she fought against the lump in her throat. “What if something happens to you?” 

“Baby, you can’t think about that. I’m going to be fine – we’re all going to be fine. I promise I’ll come back in one piece.” 

“You can’t make that promise, Jughead.” 

He gripped her hand and stared her dead in the eye. “I promise I’ll come back in one piece, Betty.” 

She shook her head, the image of him bleeding out all of those years ago filling her with current dread. “I don’t know if I’m ready to handle you coming back hurt, Jug. I’m trying – really, I am – but I don’t know if I can see you bleeding and – ” 

He cut her off with a swift kiss, both hands gripping her arms in a tight embrace. “Betty Cooper, listen to me. I’m not going to put you through that again. Just have a little faith, babe, okay? I’ve got to go.” 

He started to walk off when she called out his name. He pivoted around and saw the hesitation on her face, could read the words on the tip of her tongue. _I love you._ Though she couldn’t say it, he knew what was in her head. 

He nodded. “I’ll be back, Betty. We can talk then.” 

The thick film of dread returned as she watched him walk away. Jughead and the rest of the gang mounted their bikes, sans FP. As the elder Serpent approached his bike beside Jughead, his son held out his hand to stop him. 

“Not tonight, dad. Let me handle this. It’s time I prove I’m ready to lead my men.” 

FP hesitated. “Are you positive, son?” 

Jughead nodded assuredly. “Absolutely, dad. I’m ready.” 

FP nodded, pursing his lips. He took a step back, joining Alice as they watched the Serpents bring their engines to life and roar out of the bar and parking lot of the Whyte Wyrm, Jughead leading the formation as Joaquin brought up the rear. 

Betty watched as the motorcycles disappeared into the black of the night, framed by the fog of the smoldering pile of ash where the old shack once stood. Her mother came up beside her and wrapped her arm across her shoulders. 

“It’s all going to be okay, baby. Now let’s get inside and get ready for their return.” 

///////

**Scene Nine**

Those left behind passed the time by packing up the leftover party food and sorting out the rest of the bar. About forty minutes after they had left, FP got called off to pick up Joaquin, who had been shot in the shoulder. Alice had contacted Dr. Clayton, the Serpents’ on-call physician, and about five minutes after the doctor arrived, the club pulled up, their engines a dull roar as they rode into the garage. 

Betty could hear the deep groans coming from the passenger side door of the truck as FP helped Joaquin out of his seat. The dark-haired boy was gripping a towel to his left shoulder, putting as much pressure as he could muster on the bleed, his teeth visible in a wide grimace. Jughead parked his bike and ran ahead of Joaquin and FP. Dr. Clayton met them in the bar and began assessing the wound. 

Beside Betty, Kevin was crying, his brows furrowed in anger. As Jughead was approaching them in the direction of the back room where Dr. Clayton was set up, Kevin stepped forward and shoved into him with a firm push of his palms. 

“You asshole! How could you have let this happen to him?” 

Sweet Pea ran forward, ready to strike in Jughead’s defense, but Jughead held his hand up to stop him. Betty thought he looked so defeated and worn down. Though she felt relief when she saw him safe, she immediately felt pity for him. She could tell he was taking this injury against Joaquin personally. 

Kevin fell into step by Joaquin, rubbing his back sweetly and whispering vows of love while glaring across Joaquin’s shoulders directly at Jughead. As soon as they got to the back room, Kevin slammed the door while Dr. Clayton guided Joaquin to his makeshift hospital bed. 

Toni dismounted from her bike, a smear of old blood decorating her nose while a fresh drop slipped from a nostril. Cheryl ran up to her and threw her arms around the brunette. Cheryl pulled away from the hug and took in Toni’s injured face, leaning down to lick up the rogue drop of blood just above her lip. Toni growled softly and pressed a firm kiss against Cheryl’s lips. They broke free and scrambled back to Toni’s bedroom, the brunette planting a hard smack against the redhead’s ass. 

Sweet Pea stepped up to the bar, anxious for a stiff drink to cure the pain that radiated through his face as a bruise was developing beneath his left eye. Veronica cut him off in his path, her eyes angry as she investigated the discoloration of his cheek. She slapped the other side of his face. 

“Son of a bitch – don’t you ever scare me like that again!” 

Sweet Pea’s head swiveled back to the front, his eyes locked on hers. In them, she saw rage, exhaustion, and a thick haze of lust – and the combination was driving her wild. She stomped off toward her bedroom and pivoted just before she got to the hallway. Sweet Pea had been watching her the entire time. 

“Well?” She gestured toward the direction of her room. “You coming?” 

Sweet Pea’s brow lifted and his eyes grew wide, truly surprised by Veronica’s proposition. Without another word and without his stiff drink, he followed her trail and they disappeared into her room with a loud slam of her door. 

Betty placed her hand on Jughead’s arm as he leaned against the bar, his forehead cradled by his right hand. She could see a cut above his left eye oozing thick blood. 

“Jug, let me clean that up for you. You’re getting blood all over your hand.” 

He shrugged her off, stepping away from the bar. “I need to make sure Joaquin is okay first.” 

“There’s not much more you can do for him right now. The doctor is taking care of him.” 

Jughead began to pace. “Yeah, but it was my job to keep my guys safe. My job! This was my first official mission as a leader and already one of my men got hurt.” 

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Jughead. You’re in a dangerous line of business, you know that. And your men know it too. They know what they’ve signed up for.” 

“That doesn’t change the shitty way I feel right now, Betty.” He ran his fingers through his messy hair. “That doesn’t change the fact that one of my best friends is bleeding from his arm right now. Jesus Christ, Betts – what if he can’t ride a motorcycle anymore? If his arm is damaged, he may never forgive me.” 

Betty stepped into his path and caught his face in her hands. He sighed slowly. “Jughead, you’re spiraling. Everything is going to be okay. You are all safe and Joaquin is getting patched up. You have to take care of yourself too. Let me clean your face up.” 

He shook his head, but allowed her to keep her hands on his face. “I need to go check on Joaquin first. I need to see for myself that he’s okay.” 

Betty exhaled slowly and removed her hands. “Okay. But I’ll be waiting out here to clean your wound, you hear me?” 

He nodded as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. She watched as he crossed to the hallway and down to the back room, opening the door just as Joaquin was letting out another painful moan. 

///////

**Scene Ten**

Jughead stepped out from the backdoor, closing the door softly behind him before rubbing his hands together with a rag. There were remnants of dried blood there on his fingertips, Joaquin’s blood, but he fought against the guilt that threatened to overtake him. He was exhausted, burned out from the amazing amount of emotions that coursed through his body within the last 24 hours – excitement, lust, anger, rage, and fear. 

_Just another day in the life of a king._

Betty pushed herself off from the bar when she saw him, waiting all this time for him to reappear. “How’s he doing?” she asked, her voice soft, though laced with concern. The bar around them was quiet, everyone else already off seeking comfort from one another after the night’s harrowing showdown. 

Jughead looked up from where he stood cleaning his heads and sighed. He did his best to shake her off. 

“He’s doing okay. He’ll need another day or two of bedrest just in case, and he’ll be out of commission on a bike for a while, but he’s going to live. That’s all that matters right now.” He inhaled slowly and set the bloody rag on the bar top. “Look, Betty – I’m wiped. I’m going to bed.” 

“Not so fast, mister. I said I was going to take a look at that cut and I meant it. Go wash your hands and gather a couple of wash cloths for me, will ya? Do you have any Band-Aids around here?” 

Jughead, resigning himself to her incessant demands, pointed to a drawer halfway down the bar. “There’s a first aid kit in that drawer there. There should be some gauze and tape still. I’m going to clean up.” 

Betty turned her back as he stalked off, his shoulders drooping with exhaustion. She dug around in the drawer, retrieving a small white box filled with a handful of gauze, two packets of medicated cream, and a roll of self-adhering wrap for wound dressings. Deciding to take the whole box with her, she shut the drawer softly. She could hear the faucet from upstairs running and she realized Jughead was occupying the bathroom near his room. 

She trekked up the staircase, shutting off the final light in the bar behind her. She pushed back the cracked door of his bedroom, and in an instant memories flooded her brain like a tidal wave. 

Most everything looked the same. The man still had the same posters on his wall as the boy, the same dark wood dresser, though a few more chips and divots in the wood had appeared since his teenage years. His bed was a bit bigger, wide enough for the room to allow, and it was covered in a large quilt of navy plaid. She reached down and fingered the hem, recognizing her mother’s work. 

“Alice knows her way around a needle or two.” 

Betty released the quilt and swiveled to see Jughead leaning against the doorframe, watching her with questioning eyes. He pushed himself off of the frame and approached, stopping just short of Betty before plopping himself down on the bottom corner of the bed. 

“Alright, let’s get this over with.” 

Betty sat down beside him and he adjusted the angle of his body for her to inspect his forehead. The laceration was minor, the blood mostly dried around the separated edges of skin. She took one of the wash cloths from his hands and brought it up to his forehead. She dabbed the cut gently. He winced slightly, but not nearly as subtle as he had hoped. 

“That hurt?” 

Jughead sighed, knowing it was fruitless to lie to her. “A bit, yeah. It hurt worse earlier. It’s not as bad now. I’m sure it will be fine.” He made to stand but she shoved him back with a firm press of her hand on his collarbone. 

“Sit. I said I was going to clean this out and I’m not going to tell you again.” 

He eyed her curiously, the hint of a smirk flirting on the corner of his lips. “Fine, bossy pants.” 

She grinned, unable to help herself. “I’m just trying to look out for you.” 

“Why?” 

She looked him in the eye and could tell he was equal parts suspicious and confused. A flutter of nerves began to kick up in the bottom of her stomach. “Is it so hard to believe that I actually do care about what happens to you, Jughead?” 

“You didn’t seem to care that much ten years ago.” It was a hurtful dig, and Jughead regretted it as soon as he heard the venomous tone escape his mouth. He was quick to backtrack as he saw the guilt sweep over her face like a dark wave. “Look, I shouldn’t have said that. That’s the exhaustion talking. And the past ten years of frustration and heartbreak.” He shrugged softly. “But, you’re generous enough to take care of my cuts right now and I shouldn’t be so ungrateful.” 

She exhaled softly. “Jughead, you’re entitled to act a little churlish. I hurt you, and there’s nothing I can do to take back the last ten years. But I’m here right now, doing my best to get along because there are bigger things at play here than some old wound that can’t seem to heal. A little cooperation will take us far.” 

He nodded slowly, his eyes glued to her. Being this close to her, he could finally take the time to explore the features of her face and measure the changes that had occurred over the last decade. Though her skin still seemed just as touchable smooth as it had when she was a young woman, there were worry lines that had cropped up along the edges of her eyes. Her eyes themselves were still green and glowing like beautiful glistening jewels, but they felt distant as if the mirth that once haunted her gaze had been hardened by some life experience. 

He had been living with this theory that he was the only person changed by time, the only person negatively affected by her absence, but as he watched her skeptic gaze assess the damage of the gun fight, he realized maybe it had been easier to believe the lie when he thought only he had been hurt. 

However, she was still breathtakingly beautiful, despite her features that had seemed a little more than jaded. The heat between their bodies, pressed close together as she leaned in to clean the cut further, had awakened a flame he thought had been permanently snuffed out. There had been sparks at Crystal Point, lust and passion and hatred blended together for one sexual, confrontational cocktail, but this flame, this fire – what ignited within him now was so much more. 

Jughead no longer felt exhausted. 

“Betty,” he whispered, his voice layered with gentle need. Her eyes dropped from his cut to stare into his eyes, and in them he found the same hesitance in her that he felt, that desire to reach out to caress hidden behind the fear of what that simple gesture might mean. Nothing was ever simple between them. Every touch, every gaze meant something. 

She lowered the cloth from his forehead, still locked within his stare. She swallowed softly and cleared her voice, turning away to set the cloth on the bedside table. Just as he thought the moment was gone, a ball of sensuous desire unnecessarily wasted, she twisted back around to face him again, her hands easing up to cup his face. 

She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss upon his waiting lips, the fire between them beginning to build, fanned by the way she brought her fingers up to weave through his hair and the way his hands came up to gently grip the sides of her ribcage. Together, they deepened the kiss, their lips parting for their tongues to explore caves they had once abandoned, now finally returning. Betty’s hands circled down from his hair to interlock behind his neck and she pulled him down onto her. 

They lowered themselves onto the cool surface of his bed. One of Jughead’s hands released its grip from Betty’s side and settled over the sheets, smoothing its way up to frame her face and offer his body support as he hovered above her. Her hands slid down his shoulder blades, past the wide firm expanse of his back, traveling down his sides and he nearly shivered. They landed on the hem of his t-shirt, soiled and bloody, and she pulled it up and over to slip past his ears and the crown of his head. His mouth broke from hers to remove the shirt and work on her jawline as she reached out to toss his clothing somewhere in the recesses of his bedroom. 

She closed her eyes, moaning softly in response to the nibbles he planted along her jaw and under her ears. He moved back and forth, careful to attend to every inch of her neck as well, and when his tongue dipped into the hollow above her collarbone, her hips bucked up with desire. 

Betty could feel the familiar burning ache begin to build between her legs, a continuation of the arousal she felt when she was pressed against him during their make out earlier behind the bar. Her thighs were singing, crying out for her to clench them together. As she made the move to bring them inward, she could hear Jughead’s chuckle and felt the calloused surface of his hand brush against her knee where he pried her legs back open again. 

“I used to love it when you did that. I knew that meant you were going to be sopping wet for me.” 

Betty’s eyes rolled back, his confession sending sparks directly to her core. She traced her fingers down the soft tan wilderness of his chest, curling around the soft wisps of dark hair that had gathered between his pecs and breastbone. She placed a light pressure with her fingertips and he leaned back, gazing into her eyes with that familiar ocean of blue that made her heart jump. She leaned forward, sitting up in front of him. Her eyes traveled down to his chest and arms and she catalogued the tattoos that decorated his skin, some old, some newly inked during their time apart. 

She started with the grim reaper riding a motorcycle along his right forearm, the words “Dare Me” written in gray flames, the symbol of his fearlessness in the face of danger, a mask he wore every day he put on that Serpent cut. She brought the arm up to her lips and placed a soft kiss along the words. Next, there was the black and white portrait of him and his sister, both kids, embracing in front of a plane of old wooden boards. The smiles on their faces were toothy and happy, genuine. Seeing the joyful face of his sister filled her heart with a sharp ache. The little girl had been like a sister to Betty as well, and her death still caused her to feel complete and crippling sadness. She placed another kiss along the bicep. 

At the base of his neck, above the line of his right collarbone, settled the flathead of a tribal serpent, a large reptilian beast that wove down the column of his neck, disappearing somewhere along his back, before wrapping itself along the side of his right ribcage, an all-encompassing representation of his legacy. She wrapped her hand around his neck and pulled him inward, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the head of the snake. 

Then there was the addition of his last name, written in all caps as “JONES” etched above his right breast, the letters fashioned in an Old English script. Her lips grazed down from the serpent to settle on the ink. Her fingers traced its outline, trailing from the final curve of the “S” to meet the Basquiat crown tattooed above his left chest, a tattoo he had gotten the same day she had gotten hers on her forearm. Again, she kissed his skin, the surface hot and buzzing. Above the crown, there was a cursive script with the name “Jellybean” written along the lower edge of his collarbone and her heart took a little dive. She reached up with her lips and traced a soft kiss over the name of his sister, knowing beneath the gruff exterior of the ink sat the heart of a man as gold as the crown on his chest. 

Jughead inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He wanted to shake off these feelings that had begun to re-bloom in his chest, knowing only pain could result, but it felt so heavenly to bask in the glow that was building between them. Feeling her pay homage to his sister in such a way, her own unique show of comfort and care, both confused and enthralled him. 

Her fingers trailed down to his left bicep and there sat the Southside Serpent logo, a green serpent with angry yellow eyes, curling in the shape of a circle, its mouth open to consume its tail. _An ouroboros._ The expression “One Is All” hovered above the top curve, the words “creation out of destruction, life out of death” underneath – the standard ink that everyone in the club was branded with. For Jughead, it was one of his oldest tattoos, the symbol of his relentless and unwavering commitment to the club. 

Before she could kiss its surface, she eyed the words “Mo Chuisle” etched beneath his left breast, under his heart, the vow they shared through permanent ink. 

Both tattoos, a show of the different sides of Jughead Jones – the biker loyal to his club and the man loyal to his heart. And that’s where Betty found herself trapped between, the battle she had been fighting since they were teenagers in love. She knew she’d always find herself caught in the in between, standing in the middle of a battle between his need to honor the legacy of his name and the desire to chase the feelings that stirred in his chest. 

Betty didn’t have to choose tonight, but she went with her gut, bending forward to plant two soft kisses on their shared script, one for each word. Before she was done, her fingertips traced the silver scar of the stab wound just beneath that he had gotten the night before she fled. Her lips followed, soothing and sweet, and Jughead knew this was her way of saying sorry, of saying she cared, of saying the love that remained within them trumped the fear of violence she had carried since he had joined the club. 

However, her blatant refusal to kiss his ouroboros tattoo reminded him that she still felt like she belonged on the outside and she rejected that piece of him that would continue to be a vital part of who he was. 

When she leaned back, righting her body to face him, he captured her breath in a rushed, rough kiss. He felt overwhelmed with the need to hold her close, fade into her. Each tender kiss she had planted had caused his heart to skip a beat. 

Their kiss quickly transitioned from hurried entangled lips into a deafening need to absorb each other, their limbs pulling at their remaining pieces of clothing. Betty’s loose fitting summer blouse joined Jughead’s shirt somewhere in the vast sea of his bedroom floor, and her hands clumsily worked the buckle of his belt wrapped tight around his jeans. Jughead’s yanked at the hem of her shorts, not bothering to undo the zipper, the urge to have her naked beneath him coursing like molten lava through his system. 

Betty lifted her hips to help him slip off her shorts and her hands flew up to undo the clasp of her bra from the front. When the cups separated and her breasts sprang free, Jughead leaned forward and feasted like a man starved. His lips traveled from nipple to nipple, his tongue teasing and tugging while his mouth intermittently capped the two darkened circles on her skin. The fabric of her bra dangled between her arms but Betty was too lost in the sensation of his warm spit on her skin for her to give much of a damn, and the visual of her lost in ecstasy, limbs trapped in the confines of her clothing was sinful. 

One of her palms found its way beneath the zipper line of his jeans where she gripped him gently, and her skin swallowed the low groan that erupted from his mouth as he continued to cup her breasts. Her hand moved up and down his hardened length, rubbing the tip of her thumb over the head of his cock through his boxers. He growled and pulled his lips from her chest to grapple with her lips, pressing into her severely. 

“Fuck, Betty,” he whispered, his mouth crashing back onto hers. Driven by his excitement and the twitching of his cock in her hand, her fingers slid past the elastic band of his underwear and she found the hot, taut skin beneath. She pulled him out from the confines of his lower clothing, pumping him up and down with her hand. His lips broke away from hers to stare into her eyes, his hand firmly on the back of her neck, holding her gaze. She could see the lust there, heavy and deep, and felt like she was about to spontaneously combust. 

“I need you,” she whimpered, the thought of his hard cock inside her driving her wild. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers again, his other hand slipping between them to find her wet between the soft lace of her panties. He groaned into her mouth and she moaned back, a joined symphony of desire echoing between them. He brought his thumb up to circle her clit, feeling the wetness of her panties expand as she broke free from their kiss and cried out. His fingers peeled back the curtain of her panties and he drove two fingers deep inside her, the tightness of her walls causing his eyes to bulge out. It felt like the first time all over again. 

“Damn, baby, how have you stayed so tight after all this time?” 

She groaned against his ear, the piston action of his fingers inside her and the sounds of her slickness a maddening tune driving her beyond desire. “It’s been a while,” she chuckled breathily over his skin. 

Jughead felt a sudden surge of possessiveness, reveling in the truth that she had been untouched for so long. It was like claiming her again, a prize he had first been awarded with back when he was 17. 

“Make me feel good again, Juggie,” she whimpered and he nearly lost it. 

He lifted his hips, his hands separating from her to yank his pants and boxers down past his ankles onto the floor. Betty took the same opportunity to remove her panties, but with a mischievous glint in her eye she held them up for him to see. His eyes grew dark and he yanked them out of her hand, bringing them up to his nose where he inhaled deeply, the scent of her so strong he could nearly taste it on his tongue. 

“Goddamn, I’ve missed you.” 

Betty blushed, her heart doing a quick somersault in her chest at his words. He set the panties on his side table like a souvenir, and he settled back onto the bed. His hands came back up to cup her face to kiss her, this one simple and sweet. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself onto his lap, intertwining her legs across his lower back. There was no time for foreplay, the urge to fuck too strong to delay. His hands left her face to grip her hips and he helped her lower her center directly over his upright erection. Before they continued, they looked into each other’s eyes, seeking acceptance, and when they found it she plummeted, taking him fully within herself. 

Their heads collectively fell back, the feeling of their joined union swimming through them like a rush of blood to the brain. They began to move, Betty bouncing slowly up and down him as he held her close to his chest. His mouth pressed soft kisses up and down the column of her neck as she clung to him, her aching center burning with the desire to swallow him whole. She rose up until just the tip remained inside before descending back down to take in his entire length, feeling the base of him pressed against her entrance. 

“You feel so good, Betty,” he groaned into her skin, his hand coming up to grip the column of her neck possessively. “ _Goddamn,_ you feel so good.” 

She bit his earlobe in response, reveling in the way he shoved his hips up even harder into her. She felt like screaming, the sensation overwhelmingly decadent and delicious. Their lips rose to meet, pressing into each other as they tasted their collective spit on their tongues. 

Jughead lifted up, causing Betty to briefly see stars, before he pushed her down onto the mattress, their bodies still joined just below the hip. Once she was settled beneath him, he continued to pump in and out of her, the pressure of her tight walls coming in on his hard, throbbing cock prompting him to hold his breath. 

He leaned down, framing her face in his hands as he pressed slow gentle kisses across her lips and cheeks, surprising even himself as the urge to fuck her so hard through the bedframe began to grow. This embrace felt different, less casual than a simple fuck, more meaningful as their eyes locked together, their bodies moving in harmony, their lips whispering each other’s names like prayers in between each thrust. 

Jughead could feel sweet release impending and he leaned down, feeling lost in the velvet interior of her hot pussy, catching the soft flesh on her shoulder between his teeth. They grazed softly, causing her to moan next to his ear, her heated breath brushing across the skin of his face. 

He pressed soft kisses to soothe, and just as he was nearing the end, ready to give her all he had left of his body, he whispered “Mo Chuisle” into her ear and unknowingly gave her all he had left of his heart. 

Betty stilled briefly beneath him, the endearment stealing her breath. As she felt him stiffen and spill inside her, his hot come burning her insides, she tipped over the edge with him, clenching him tight. Her hands, somehow finding their way around his back before their release, were digging into the ink of his tribal serpent tattoo, raking down the skin. The burn he felt was incredible, both of them enacting their own means of possession on the other – her nails, his words. 

He collapsed onto her, their breath both labored and their skin both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. After a moment, their breathing more regulated, he rolled off of her, his arm coming up to open a spot for her to curl into his side. Without thinking, she slid over and occupied the space, her hand sweeping up to rest on his stomach. 

“Is that what I’ve been missing this past decade? Damn…” she muttered playfully, tracing her fingertips across the tight skin of his abdomen. 

“Yeah. I, uh – I’m sorry it didn’t last longer. It’s been a while for me too.” 

“Jug, that was…”

“Yeah…”

They both sat in a stupor, their minds and hearts and groins overwhelmed with mixed emotions. 

“10 out of 10, right? Like… I didn’t lose points for zero foreplay?” 

Betty grinned, a soft laugh vibrating in her chest. “I think it’s been too long for us to worry about foreplay. We had some serious business to attend to.” 

He chuckled, his fingers brushing against the exposed warm skin of her arm. “That was one Hell of a business transaction, kid.” 

She slapped his chest lightly, playfully. “I think that was more of a barter than anything else. I think we both got serviced.” 

The atmosphere was light as they rested beneath the ceiling fan, watching as the blades turned round and round in a circle, an endless motion forward. 

“Hey, uh – I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” 

Betty’s lips turned down into a confused frown. “What do you mean?” 

“Using our, uh, name. Old habit, I guess.” 

He could feel Betty tense beneath him, but he relaxed once he felt her do the same, heard the softness in her voice as she responded, “it’s okay. I guess it was bound to come out at some point.” 

“Yeah. Eventually we were bound to end up here one night. I think we had too much tension to let it go unchecked.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed, subconsciously melding more into his side. 

He chuckled. “Glad we could get that out of the way, I guess.” For a moment, both of them sat there, unsure of what this meant, if this would be a one-time stir of the pot, a single stoke of the fire that had been burning between them ever since she stepped foot into the bar. 

Betty tilted her head up to face him. She leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the bottom of his chin, the smart scruff of an overnight shadow scratching her lips lightly. She rose to brace her weight on her wrist, her blonde hair falling low across her shoulders. “Jughead Jones, if you think I’m done with you, you’ve got another thing coming.” 

“Coming, you say?” he teased, his eyebrow quirking up quizzically. “I don’t think you did enough of that. I know I can do better than one.” He growled and pushed her back onto the bed, rolling over her before descending down toward the apex between her legs, already aching and wet with desire. 

As she felt the tip of his warm tongue probing the quivering flesh of her lower lips, hear him lap up the combination of their earlier climax, she laughed softly, shoving a pillow over her mouth as she moaned out loudly into the cushion. 

They had a lot of time to make up for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
> **Scene Three:**
> 
> \--“Still Falling For You” by Ellie Goulding
> 
> **Scene Five:**
> 
> \--“New Americana” by Halsey 
> 
> **Scene Seven:**
> 
> \--“Sweet” by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
> \--“Dangerous Woman” by Ariana Grande 
> 
> **Scene Eight:**
> 
> \--“Seven Devils” by Florence + the Machine 
> 
> **Scene Ten:**
> 
> \--“Now or Never” by Halsey 


	4. BEAT ME BLUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.
> 
> However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me start by saying the reception to this fic has been AMAZINGLY WONDERFUL and I cannot thank each and every one of you enough for your interest, support, questions, comments, kudos, encouragement -- all of it. You are all so amazing -- just -- you're wonderful.
> 
> I got a little chuckle with how many of you were disappointed at a lack of SweetVee smut scene and the lack of quality Falice. I'm here to say this is the chapter for you :) And if you're down for more SweetVee action, I am in the process of writing a new fic centered around their ship called "No Angel" and it should be out soon. Follow me on tumblr (elegantmoonchild) for future teases, or if you have questions/concerns/comments about "Ouroboros" or any of my other fics... or even if you just want to talk. I'm here!
> 
> As a reminder, there is some NSFW content in this chapter. Not as much violence, but the grit is coming. Jason Blossom is coming too -- trust me, he hasn't been forgotten. I hope you like Act Four!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**Scene One**

“You know what sounds amazing right now?” 

Jughead traced his fingertips across her bare abdomen, his other arm slung behind her shoulders, supporting her. He leaned in to nibble on her earlobe. 

“Mmm, tell me…” he whispered, his voice throaty and thick. 

It was just after 5:00 am and they had been at it all night, dancing beneath the sheets and decorating the floor with all of the possessions he had on the various surfaces in his room, shoving objects aside so they could make furious love, gripping each other like it was the last dawn they’d ever see. Betty basked in the soft glow of the morning as it seeped through his windows, the curtain material thin and navy blue. 

Her body hadn’t felt this alive in years. Every appendage tingled and felt brand new. Her skin felt like it was enveloped in a warm blanket, cocooned in a golden haze. Her jaw hurt from all of the kissing and smiling. Her face wouldn’t ease up and she felt like a silly, foolish, _happy_ 18 year old again. 

“Bagels. We should eat lots and lots of bagels.” 

Jughead’s fingers ceased their tracing just below her navel, stopping just short of the sheet line. She could feel his chest vibrate with a soft chuckle. “I had a different kind of meal in mind, but I could go for a little carb binge. I need something to get my strength back up. You’re trying to kill me, woman.” 

She grinned and reached up to card his messy black hair. “Excuse me, but I believe it’s you that was about to do some pretty salacious things down there beneath the covers.” 

He bit down softly on her earlobe. “You know I’ve always had a pretty intense appetite.” She felt a shiver travel up her spine as the heat between her legs began to stir. He chuckled again. “Who would have thought you’d be the one to suggest food before me? I’m kind of proud.” 

She tugged at his hair playfully and he erupted with laughter. “Stop rubbing off on me, Jones.” 

He rolled over on top of her, bracing himself on his elbows to cradle her head. His eyes were blue like the fresh dew of the dawn, glistening and reborn. His hips began to sway and she could feel the hardened flesh of his erection rubbing against her core. Her head tilted back and she let out a soft moan. 

“I’ll just rub myself on you, then.” 

“Jones…” she mumbled, biting her bottom lip. He leaned down to catch her trapped lip and swept his tongue over it to soothe. He reached down to grab and guide himself to her entrance. He slipped inside, soft and velvet like a dream, and they moved together. Their eyes locked together and they exchanged soft kisses, hands finding each other to intertwine and clutch. 

When climax came for them both, they tipped past the dawn into a brand new golden day. 

They eventually arose, slipping on random articles of clothing to make a sneak trip to the kitchen. It was Sunday, and the morning after an incredibly intense evening, so they didn’t expect to run into anyone. However, there was excitement to be found in sneaking around like kids, losing themselves in the memories of their slinking around the Wyrm like when they were just horny teenagers. 

They crept out of Jughead’s bedroom, him dressed in simple sleep shorts and her in nothing but his t-shirt, gray with his signature “S” stamped on the front. They tiptoed down the hall and to the landing on the upper platform. The main room of the Wyrm was still dark and sleepy, silent like a ghost, but once they determined the coast was clear they proceeded down the staircase and slipped in past the kitchen door. 

Jughead dug into the cabinets, searching for some sort of salty snack to go with their breakfast bagels. Betty perused the shelves of the fridge, retrieving the bag of plain white bagels, three left in the satchel. She reached out for the cream cheese and butter, pulling them out and placing them on the long counter top. 

“Do you want some of this leftover fruit salad?” 

Jughead wrinkled his nose and shot her a withering look. “When have I ever eaten fruit before noon?” 

She grinned and muttered to herself, “Okay, more fruit for me then.” 

She brought out two bottles of water, thinking it would be wise for them to stay hydrated, and surveyed their makeshift early morning breakfast selection. Jughead had contributed a small bag of potato chips and a bag of teriyaki-flavored beef jerky. When she eyed the dried meat and quirked her eyebrow, he shrugged his shoulders. 

“We need the protein.” 

She laughed openly and he could feel himself awaken again beneath his shorts, the sight of her glowing and happy beyond arousing. Now that she was back in his life – and in his heart – he couldn’t get enough of her. It was like making up for lost time, and though they had a rocky start, it was like they had fallen right back into place, picking back up like she had never left. To see her in his t-shirt, hair mussed and tousled after a night of lovemaking, Jughead thought she had never looked more beautiful. She still had that youthful glow of their teens, but her curves were more womanly, and the maturity she exuded was strong and powerful. 

_This time will be different,_ he thought to himself and silently cursed, knowing he was incredibly and completely screwed. 

Jughead crossed to her and she could see the lust deepen in his eyes. The laughter stayed on her lips, and everything between them right there felt so easy. The way she wrapped her arms around his neck, the ease with how he lifted her onto the counter, the manner in which he gently parted her legs and found himself within her, his lips coming down to settle in the crook between her neck and shoulder – it was all so easy, so genuine, _so right._

When they were spent, and Betty amusingly agreed to the need for protein, they gathered their wares and crept back up the staircase to indulge in bed. Once they got to the top stair, however, they immediately heard the closing of a door and the soft mingled voices of two people laughing. 

Betty, ever the curious one, yanked Jughead to the side so they could peek from behind the wall on the upper platform. 

When the two people came into sight, Betty turned her head and mouthed, “My mom?” – her eyes wide with surprise. 

Beneath the staircase, Alice and FP were standing, both in long ankle-length robes, nearly tied together in their embrace. His arms were wrapped around her waist, his mouth tickling the length of her neck, and Alice was grinning like a madwoman. Betty realized she hadn’t seen her mother look this happy in so long and she felt her heart burst and the glow return. 

Alice tilted her head and reached up for FP to land a soft kiss on her lips and they collectively chuckled, FP’s voice throaty and deep. They slipped into the kitchen and out of sight, leaving behind their two stunned children at the top of the stairs. 

Betty and Jughead looked at each other and back down at the staircase where their parents had just been smooching. After a beat, the two of them burst into loud, wild laughter and quickly rushed back to Jughead’s bedroom, careful not to drop any edible evidence in their path. 

///////

**Scene Two**

Dr. Clayton left the Wyrm sometime after two in the afternoon, his satchel of medical supplies heavy in his hand as he relayed the good news about Joaquin’s status. His wound was healing nicely and he should have full function of movement in a matter of weeks – but he was out of commission on a bike in the meantime and would need to maintain the dressing daily. 

Kevin blew his nose into a tissue, standing beside Joaquin like a worried wife. He placed his hand on Joaquin’s shoulder as a measure of comfort, and the dark-haired man leaned in to the embrace with a tilt of his head. 

Jughead nodded at Dr. Clayton’s report, grinning lightly at the news of Joaquin’s recovery. Overnight, he had been terrified thinking one of his men, and one of his best friends, was going to suffer permanently due to a call he had made for violence. Kevin had been shooting him dirty looks all morning and Jughead couldn’t be angry, knowing that Kevin had every right to be pissed. 

This is what came with being a leader. _Responsibility for all._

“Jug, what are you going to do about the shop? How are you going to function with one mechanic down?” 

Jughead glanced at Joaquin’s shoulder and replied, “We’ll manage, Quin. Just focus on getting yourself better.” 

Betty, struck by an idea, piped up, “What about me? I can help pick up the slack.” 

Jughead’s eyebrow quirked up. “You know how to properly fix bikes?” 

“Jug, you know I spent a good deal of my time around the Wyrm when we were kids, helping Tall Boy and Mustang out.” 

“Yeah, but all you did was bring tools to them and watch.” 

“See that truck out there? I bought it when it was just a heap of junk. Turned around and restored it to the fully functioning pick-up it is today.” 

Jughead smirked. “I’m not sure if that’s your best example, Betts. That thing makes an awful lot of noise when you don’t have the radio up too loud to hear.” 

Betty put her hand on her hip, cocking it to the side as she leaned in the opposite direction on the bar. “I still know my way around an engine enough to help. It was one of those traits I learned from my father before he passed. Plus, it’s something I always enjoyed doing with FP as a kid. It’s something I have a knack for, you’ll see. Just let me help out around here. I’m getting a little tired of playing Susie Homemaker in the kitchen with my mom and Veronica.” 

Jughead’s smirk grew, becoming a full grin as he saw the spark come to life in her dazzling green eyes. “You really want to help, huh?” 

She nodded. “Just let me know what you want me to do and I’ll be there bright and early. I’ve never restored or repaired a motorcycle, but I can imagine the basics are nearly the same. I’m a fast learner, Jones.” She shot him a teasing smile. 

He sighed, relenting. “Fine, fine. Just don’t get yourself hurt. We already have one man down.” It was hard to deny her, especially after their night together. Old wounds seemed to have finally scarred over, and right now he was too mystified to worry about the occurrence of new wounds, the connection between them stronger than ever. 

Though truthfully, in his mind, Jughead still worried about Betty’s increasing involvement with the Serpents or anything gang-related. Though all she was doing was simply repairing bikes, she would be a representative for the Wyrm, and most people around the Southside knew to be a Serpent meant contributing to the wellbeing of its motorcycles. He didn’t want her to become a target strictly by association. 

He figured that may already be too late, her own mother a known Serpent from her high school days. Jughead had wanted to keep Betty as much out of sight for as long as possible, but he knew the youngest Cooper girl enough to know she would never be happy stuck behind the oven forever. 

It was only a matter of time before she stood her ground and found a way to help that didn’t involve aprons and chopping. But he vowed to do his part to keep her safe – not just as someone connected to the Serpents, but as someone he truly cared about. 

Someone he was beginning to fall for all over again. 

///////

**Scene Three**

Betty reached into a large foil tin with a spoon and dished out a helping of cheesy rice onto her plate. She moved down the assembly line of food, adding a portion of fresh fruit salad next to the rice. Kevin followed behind her, already munching on a piece of fried chicken. 

Alice had declared that they would gather “family style” for supper tonight, a buffer for all of the recent complicated drama after the 4th. Betty, Kevin, and Veronica had been slaving around in the kitchen all day under Alice’s command, pumping out vats of fried chicken, rice, fruit salad, fresh sautéed broccoli, and yeast rolls for the entire bar. They had opened up the feast for bar customers as well, a sort of apologetic offering for all of the recent early closures from the holidays. 

Betty parked herself at one of the tables in the middle of the room, sipping her iced tea just as her mother joined her. Kevin and Joaquin sat in one of the booths, Kevin diligently cutting up Joaquin’s chicken while the biker’s arm rested in a sling. Joaquin was shirtless due to the inconvenience of the sling, his tattoos almost a sharp contrast to the injured man eating food from his boyfriend’s fork – a stick of dynamite with the words “Menace to Society” and “Rebel” written in film noir script over his right bicep and chest respectively. Veronica was posted up on one of the bar stools next to Sweet Pea, no doubt in another bickering match, though the air between them had become slightly less tense since they first slept together. 

Toni and Cheryl were in another booth on the other side of the bar, their heated whispers not muffled enough by the sounds of the jukebox. Betty could catch choice words, all of them negative, as the two women argued over their plates of food. 

“That wasn’t my fault,” Cheryl tried to explain while Toni sat there with a growing angry expression on her face. “You can’t blame me for shit I can’t control.” 

“That’s beside the point. You should have known coming here was a bad idea.” 

“Yeah, but I came here for _you._ I wanted to be with _you._ Why is it so hard for you to let anyone in?” 

“Cheryl, I don’t want to talk about this now. I’m just going to keep getting pissed.” 

“Then what do you want me to do? You always get pissed. You just expect me to keep my mouth shut?” 

Toni sighed. “I think maybe we should take a break for tonight – give each other a chance to cool off.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Cheryl was fuming. “Of course you think it’s a good idea to just make a clean break when shit gets heavy.” She slid out of the booth and grabbed her glass of vodka soda. 

“Have a good fucking night,” Cheryl declared before throwing the drink in Toni’s face. She tossed the glass angrily to the ground, not bothering to watch as it smashed to pieces before she was storming out of the bar, purse in hand. 

Sweet Pea tensed up, watching as Cheryl stomped off. Toni sneered and wiped the vodka off of her face before launching herself out of the booth and down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door heavily behind her, the sound echoing throughout the entire bar. 

“Fucking worthless redheaded bitch.” 

“Are you _really_ serious right now? I can’t believe you just said that.” Veronica looked at Sweet Pea, her mouth open wide in angry shock. 

Sweet Pea lifted his tumbler of whiskey, brought his lips to the rim. “I meant what I said,” he muttered confidently as he tipped the glass back and sipped. The cheap burn of the whiskey slid down his throat and he let out a slow hiss. 

Veronica continued to look astonished. She stood off of her barstool and grabbed her purse, huffing as she moved. She paused to face Sweet Pea. “You’re a real piece of shit, you know?” 

He slammed the glass down and turn to glare directly into her eyes. “The fuck you want me to say, Veronica? That I’m glad some tart felt she could slam one of my guys? My allegiance is to my club, to the people I ride for and the people that ride for me. That’s about as far as my care goes.” 

“And me?” she propositioned, venom seething from her lips. “I guess your care doesn’t extend to me?” 

He couldn’t look her in the eye, the unfamiliar swarm of flies fluttering in his insides like rotten meat. He knew this was a trap, but that niggling part of his brain told him what they had developed was becoming an unnecessary complication. Things were a lot simpler for Sweet Pea before she set foot in the Whyte Wyrm. 

“The kind of care I feel for you is different. You serve a different kind of purpose, one that shouldn’t require as much conversation.” 

Veronica looked at him like she had been slapped in the face. She was completely taken aback, floored by how easily he could dismiss her, and dismiss the heated way they looked at each other that spoke more than the language of lust. 

Veronica was a lot of things, some not quite so pretty, but above all she was a Lodge – and no one spoke to a Lodge like they were less than what they demanded. 

She scoffed, glaring between him and the glass of whiskey. “Well, I’m glad I could be here to scratch an itch. Keep on drinking, you son of a bitch.” 

She stalked off, her long black hair swiveling back and forth across her back with prissy purpose. He had to fight the urge to watch her walk away, resist the pull to gaze at her firm ass with the way she swayed her hips when she was mad. 

He brought the glass back to his lips, the amber liquid swirling around his lips and tongue. He sucked on a single ice cube, thinking about the way Veronica so easily filled him with passionate rage, and he threw the glass against the wall across the bar. Alice, who was busy sweeping around the corner booths, turned around and quirked an eyebrow, that firm maternal glare pasted on her face. Sweet Pea held a hand up in apology, realizing she would have to clean up his mess, and peeled himself off of the bar stool. Alice crossed to the area of broken glass and began to sweep. 

Sweet Pea crossed around the back of the bar, fingering the neck of another bottle of whiskey. It was always so easy to lean into an old habit under stress. His father had been a real mean alcoholic, the kind who taunted his fifteen year old son about any button he could push – girls, friends, school smarts. He’d been a true son of a bitch, his fists landing across Sweet Pea’s jaw when the well had run dry around the house. He supposed he had to thank his father for teaching him how to fight, but the real father figure who taught him how to defend himself had been his uncle. 

Tall Boy had taken him in after his mother had died, recognizing that his fate would be disastrous if he stayed behind with his father. Sweet Pea had been a tall, lanky boy of 19 when he showed up on the front steps of the Whyte Wyrm. He was angry, scared, and raring for a fight – a total reflection of his cowardly father. Becoming a Serpent had taught him how to harness that rage and put it to use protecting the club. 

With the Serpents, he found family and purpose. That had been enough for him to this point. He thought about the way Veronica stormed off, the insane sense of lust he felt when she was around, and the way her passion inspired him to be just as loud. 

It made him realize maybe there had been something else he had been craving all along that the club couldn’t fulfill. 

He considered the bottle of whiskey he had in his hand, thought about pouring himself a new drink. Instead, he set the bottle down and pushed off of the bar. He’d find relief in other ways. 

///////

**Scene Four**

Sweet Pea paced outside the door to his bedroom, running his left hand exasperatedly through his mop of thick black hair, his right hand itching to fist up and slam against the wall. It pissed him off that he couldn’t even go into his own damn bedroom without the threat of a confrontation. His space was meant to be _his space,_ the one place where he could find sanctuary from all of the turmoil he endured daily under the weight of gang business. 

How the fuck was he supposed to relax when a fire-breathing dragon with gorgeous brown eyes and perfect tan tits was stewing on the other side of that door? 

It was silly, this game of avoiding. He was Sweet Pea, the gun-wielding, knuckle busting, 6’5” form of muscle and might, the right hand to the leader of the Southside Serpents. He wasn’t going to be pushed around and bullied by some tart that wanted to put words in his mouth and make him out to be the bad guy. 

Sweet Pea was the kind of man that handled his own business and no one dared to question him. He wouldn’t give Veronica Lodge the power to be the exception. 

He reached out and grabbed hold of the door knob, yanking it to the right. He shoved the door open with his body, ready for vocal bloodshed. 

Veronica was lounging on the bed, shuffling through the pages of a magazine she had previously snuck in his room. Her casual pose, mixed with her nonplussed reaction to him storming the castle of his bedroom, filled him with a sudden angry acid that bubbled over. 

He had gotten worked up for a fight that she didn’t seem interested in entertaining. And now, as he took in the sight of her long, trim legs and the tight tan curve of her hips exposed by the riding up of her thin cotton tank top, he was worked up to the point of rage. 

He slammed the door behind him, effectively trapping her inside with him. He came raring for a fight and he was going to fucking get one. 

“You know, I’m getting fucking tired of you acting like my goddamn boss, censoring my words in front of everyone in the bar. No one has ever questioned me before, and if you think I’m going to let you waltz into this place with those cheap ass heels and stomp all over my reputation, you’re fucking insane.” 

Veronica lifted her brow, her attention away from the magazine and now focused hot on the way his face became more and more flushed with anger. She allowed the silence to build, never one to give in to anyone’s childish fits so easily. Sweet Pea continued to stare daggers at her, his tall presence towering over her even from across the room. 

He threw his hands up to his hips, gripping the bone of his pelvis tightly, fighting back the urge to throw around nearby objects. He had to remind himself that this was his room and these were his possessions, no matter what kind of pissing match she had attempted over his personal territory. 

“Well, are you just going to fucking sit there? If you have nothing to say, no apology to give me, you can walk your pretty little ass right out of my room.” 

Veronica cleared her throat and turned back to the magazine. Her movements were deliberate, slow, calculated as she took her time closing the front cover of the glossy booklet over the article she had been reading. She grabbed hold of the binding and slid off of the bed, standing all of 5’4” with no fear, facing up at the seething man in front of her. 

“First off,” she began, her voice soft but laced with venom, “don’t talk to me like that. I’m not some piece of trash you can bark at, and I sure as shit won’t let you treat me like garbage. Second, what you said about Cheryl was disgusting.” She tossed the magazine to the side of the room, her anger beginning to build like an impending storm. “If you want to degrade the value of the women in this club, you’re definitely not the kind of man I want to keep fucking.” And then she shoved him, hard, right in the center of his chest. 

“Finally, my heels are Valentino and they aren’t fucking cheap.” 

He reached down and grabbed hold of her wrists, not enough to bruise but damn near close. She could see the brown in his eyes turn black, the brew of fury and sexual frustration spiraling within him. 

“If you think the value I hold for you is anything near the low amount I hold for Cheryl, then maybe you haven’t been paying attention, baby.” 

Her eyes flared up, irritation aflame at his usage of the moniker with its insulting context. “It’s kind of hard to tell when all you do is insult me.” 

He let out a sigh though his grip around her wrist was steadfast. “What the Hell do you expect from me? Roses and wine and sweet nothings? You know that’s not my style and if that’s what you came for, you’re going to be heavily disappointed.” 

She scoffed at his words, an outward show of offense that he would think she was in his room for romance, though internally she was shaking and wounded. There was a layer of care that she had grown for him but she did her best then to cover it with frost, careful not to let her feelings show. 

“You think I need soft kisses and moonlit sonatas? I may have expensive taste, but these are my emotions you’re talking about and you make them sound cheap and cliché.” She tugged at his grip, willing him to let her free. “I’m a big girl, SP. I don’t need you to fill me with goo and giggles to feel like a woman.” 

He cleared his throat, his voice becoming thicker with lust as he stared down at her, capturing the vision of her skin flushed with fight and could feel the heat of her fuming rolling off of her in waves, crashing into him by mere proximity of their bodies. 

“Then tell me what you want, because if you don’t want to keep fucking me, you need to let me know right now.” There was warning in his voice, stressed by the firm tone of that final word. There was urgency in his eyes as they fell upon her face, desperate for her reply, and she knew he wanted to touch her. 

And even though he made her madder than a spitting snake, she wanted him to touch her too. 

She kept her gaze direct on his and her tongue crept out to sweep across her bottom lip, wetting it in anticipation. 

“So are you going to fuck me or do I need to boss you around some more?” 

Sweet Pea let out a low, throaty growl from somewhere deep inside him as his grip on her wrists disappeared, his hands reappearing on her lower back as he smashed her body against his, their lips colliding like a bullet to a chest. She could feel the impact spreading through her nerves, the whoosh of air leaving her lungs making her feel breathless. 

With surprising synchronicity, her legs hopped up to wrap around his waist as his arms reached down to catch her, the same thought on their minds – get to the wall fast. He slammed her back against the dark green walls, the movement of her head as they kissed causing her to rip the bottom edge of a _Punisher_ poster. Her arms came around his neck, gripping him almost as tight as her legs. Her fingers danced around the column of skin before they met the fringe of his hairline and she wove them into the tendrils of hair there, tugging and yanking and causing him to moan into her mouth. 

His mouth dislodged from hers, coming into quick contact with the space under her left ear. He licked a hard line up to her earlobe and bit down with the pressure of his lips, and she bucked into him harshly. He grunted into her ear, the feeling of her wriggling against his twitching denim-confined cock sending him into near overdrive. 

“Can you feel how hard you make me?” he growled, his tongue dancing out to trace the outline of her ear, his grip on the back of her legs beginning to bruise. “We’re gonna have to be rough here, baby. I don’t think I can be soft with you.” 

It almost sounded like an apology to Veronica, his attempt at explaining his initial intent to go slow. The thought alone thrilled her, and when mixed with the realization that he was about to take her hard and fast, her whole body was electrified. 

“I can handle it,” she replied and he ground into her deeper, their bodies pressed so firmly against the wall they could almost make an imprint. She released his hair from her grip and her hands slid down to remove the denim jacket from around his shoulders. He quickly lowered her feet down to the ground as he made room for the sleeves to slip from his arms. His fingers came up to seize the top hem of her tank top and he yanked his hands apart, ripping the fabric. Veronica groaned, his lack of control so intoxicating to witness. 

“Give me those tits,” he demanded, and she tugged her bra cups down and his mouth fell to feast on her flesh with nibbles and rough licks. He picked her back up, anxious to press her back against the wall where their hips rolled and clashed. One of her hands clutched the top of his jeans, slipping her hand inside to trace a fingertip over the thick base of his cock, feeling the soft curls tickle her skin. She loved that he never bothered with wearing underwear. 

She loved that he was already ready for her. 

One of his hands came up to force her face to the side, her warm flushed cheek thrust against the cold surface of the wall. His lips came up from her breasts to trail up the swanlike column of her neck, moaning into her skin as she continued to tease him through the top of his pants. She chuckled lightly, the feeling of power circulating through her system as she controlled the depth and pitch of his moans with the movement of her fingers. 

“I bet if my hand was in your pants right now, you wouldn’t be so cocky,” he muttered, his tongue flicking out to poke the inside of her ear. “I bet you’re _fucking soaked_ right now.” 

Her eyes flew open, the heat between her legs pooling even more at his choice of words. She changed tactics, turning her surprise into strategy as she moaned softly. “I don’t know,” she whimpered. “Maybe I should find out.” And her hand left his jeans to find the buttons of her own. 

He reached out and slapped her wrist away. “The Hell you will. That’s _mine._ ” And with that, he reached in between her skin and jeans and pulled them down and away, forcing the buttons to part from their designated closures. He was rough and desperate, his index and middle fingers shoving past her panties to probe beyond her dripping wet entrance to find her hot and tight and quivering. 

The sound that came from his chest resonated so deep that she could feel the vibration. “God _damn,_ baby. That’s so fucking good.” 

The rough callous of his fingertips contrasting with her velvet insides was driving her mad, her legs clenching tighter around his waist in response. With every beat that his fingers sunk into her, his palm would press against her slit and rotate, the point of pressure directly on her swollen clit. She could feel the ache blossom into a monster as she grew wild with need. 

“You need to fuck me right now.” When he released the hand on her face and brought it down to caress her jawline, their eyes froze together. “I need you to fuck me right now.” 

He smirked and it nearly pissed her off. How did he always manage to make her lose control? Desperate to find some of that power back, she slapped him across the face. 

“What did I say?” 

The look in his eyes was lethal, and if he didn’t have his fingers drenched in her sweet juices and she couldn’t feel the hard, aching throb of his cock, she would have been afraid. 

“I don’t see you putting that cock inside me. Do you want me to hit you again?” 

He growled at her and leaned down to bite her breast in retaliation. She cried out, the pain mingling with the pleasure of his assault. She knew he was trying to fight back, prolonging the foreplay, but she was getting damn near impatient. She could feel an orgasm beginning to build. 

Sweet Pea could feel the growing flutter of her walls quiver around his fingers and he knew she was about to climax. He wanted nothing more than to drive himself so deep within her, but the look on her face whenever she came was always an extra treat for him. 

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re coming all over my fingers,” he teased. She tried to keep a strong face, but it all began to crumble as her eyes rolled in the back of her head, the familiar tingle of an orgasm spreading from her toes to her thighs and right there in the apex between, coating him with a thick layer of her salacious nectar. 

The numbing shock of adrenaline coursing through her center was blinding, and she nearly missed how he removed his fingers before quickly undoing his jeans. He pulled his cock out of his pants, rubbing the bit of her left on his fingers over the taut skin of his member, and he pushed her panties further aside thrusting forward without hesitation, finding her wet and quivering and burning hot. 

She cried out again, the force of him sending her spiraling into another orgasm. He groaned into her collarbone as he leaned forward, lost within the butterfly flutter of her silken pussy walls. Her arms came up to wrap around his neck for leverage, her bones feeling loose like liquid. He pounded into her, harder and harder, driven by the siren call of each moan that escaped her lips. He was drowning in her, his cock drenched in the wetness that seeped out between them with every push and pull. 

“Shit, sugar, your cunt is so tight.” She watched as he winced, his eyes clamped shut. They found a rhythm that was fast and steady, like the beat of a war drum. She could feel every measure of his thrusts, basked in the glory of his face contorted just enough to prove she was pulling him apart and driving him wild. 

The smirk continued to grow on her face, the feather-light trance of her two orgasms mixed with the heady weight of authority within her making her feel like a queen. 

She leaned in to whisper into his ear, her hot breath tickling the hairs around it. “I want to come all on your dick and lick it off.” 

With that, she watched as his eyes rolled in the back of his head, his mind gone in a world of perverted delight. He slipped out of her then and the high-pitched whine that escaped her lips was almost embarrassing. 

Before she could react any further, he was pivoting her body on her heels, pressing her flush against the wall. The cool surface against the heated skin of her tits felt scandalous and raw. She could feel him yank her jeans and panties down from her thighs before working to tilt her hips back and her pelvis forward as he found her entrance again, rubbing his fleshy tip along the length of her dripping wet slit before sliding in with ease. The friction of this angle was sinful. 

Her palms flew up to press on the wall, the urge to dig her nails into the hardened surface growing as he forced himself deeper and deeper within her. She could feel the heavy weight of his balls smack against her ass and her eyes shut in ecstasy. 

“Harder, baby. Fuck me harder,” she demanded, though truthfully she didn’t think he could get any deeper within her. Sweet Pea let out a fierce growl and reached up to find her wrists, twisting her arms back behind her to rest on her lower back. He gripped them together with one hand while the other landed down upon her, a firm palm against the soft skin of her ass. 

The shock of the smack had her bucking her hips back further into him and she cried out. Her third orgasm was on its way and she felt impending delirium. Surely sanity should not feel this good. 

“Ugh, V, I’m about to come,” he warned, and she could feel him begin to ease out of her. She thrust her hips back into him with command. 

“No you don’t. I want it inside.” 

Sweet Pea was about to object, but the sinful way she was rolling into him, mixed with the sight of her tight pussy taking him deeper into her and the reddened imprint of his hand on her ass, made it difficult for him to refuse her. He could feel the tips of his toes start to curl as he landed one more smack on her bottom. Another thrust and he was spilling deep within her, thick and hot. It took him five whole thrusts before he emptied himself completely, and he could feel the flesh of her pussy shiver and clench, the searing liquid of her come trickling down to coat him. 

He released her wrists and he felt like he was about to collapse into her. However, Veronica swiftly bent forward, allowing him to slip out of her before she came to her knees. He watched as she knelt before him, grasping the soft flesh of his now limp cock in her delicate manicured hand. She brought it to her lips and her tongue darted out to stroke before pulling him fully inside her mouth. She licked him like a lollipop, pink and covered with both of their juices like a sugary glaze. 

He leaned forward, placing his palms against the surface of the wall. He willed his eyes to stay open, watching her kneel before him like a king, lapping up the bits of them together on his sensitive cock. 

She softly eased him out of her mouth and placed a tender kiss on the tip, and when her eyes met his he saw something there he hadn’t seen before. Through the haze of bickering and bitching between them, there was a layer of tenderness he hadn’t expected, though if he were truly honest with himself he wouldn’t be surprised. 

They were basically mirror images of each other, and it seemed to be what she felt, he felt too. 

///////

**Scene Five**

Jughead was lighting a cigarette at the bar just as Sweet Pea plopped down on the stool next to him. He reached over into the pack of cigarettes in front of Jughead and grabbed one for himself. Sweet Pea took a deep inhale and blew out the smoke, releasing all of the tension still built up inside him after his rendezvous with Veronica. 

“Women,” he muttered, pointing his cigarette toward Toni who was busy toying with the dress strap of a random girl. “They never can make up their minds.” 

Jughead chuckled, taking a sip of his drink in between puffs. “Beats me. I’m still trying to figure out the one. I don’t know how she does it with more of them.” 

Sweet Pea scoffed. “Seriously. I’ve got to admire her ‘no shits given’ attitude though. This caring business fucking sucks.” 

“Caring business? Who are you suddenly caring about?” 

Sweet Pea shook his head. “Damn Lodge broad. I don’t know how she did it but it’s like she’s the only woman I can focus on. Can make a man feel all twisted up inside. It’s horrible.” 

Jughead laughed and crushed his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. “It’s not supposed to feel horrible, you know? Loving someone.” 

Sweet Pea nearly coughed on his inhale as he took another drag of his cigarette. “Love? Fuck no, brother. This is all strictly fucking.” He felt himself swallow back the lie. “Except there are times when she sticks around and falls asleep with her arms around me. I just don’t feel like kicking her out, is all.” 

“Sounds a little bit to me like you give a shit.” 

Sweet Pea watched the ember of his cigarette glow, the smoke wafting from the tip like a gentle haze under the dim bar light. “You know, there are times I look at her and I see my mom – all fire and passion and spunk. She’s stubborn as Hell with thick black hair, just like my ma.” He took another puff and exhaled. “It’s kind of fucked up how she’s got me all messed up inside.” 

Jughead lit another cigarette and took a drag. “I bet if you asked her, she’d probably say the same thing. You two aren’t exactly warm to each other.” 

“We have our moments,” Sweet Pea clarified defensively, realizing after he spoke how much he had just given away. It was easy to claim all they were doing was enjoying a bit of carnal companionship – it was another thing to say they were fond of one another. If he truly wanted to be honest with himself, he’d admit that being around Veronica made him feel alive for the first time in so long. 

His life with the club was exciting, and Sweet Pea had his share of female fans in the past, that tall, broody thing an instant draw for the women that came to the Wyrm. It wasn’t that Sweet Pea didn’t have enough opportunities to bury himself deep inside some girl for the night, but his time spent with Veronica was seasoned with something else, something a little more intimate. 

There were nights when they slept in the same bed where all he wanted to do was snuggle her close to his body. The shape of her fit perfectly into the crook of his arm and chest, almost like a sign – though Sweet Pea didn’t believe in signs. 

_You made your own luck or you died trying._

There was no heavenly being that designed someone for everyone, no deity that promised another day. He learned that lesson the day his mother died, the night his cousin was killed while driving home. But if he had to come close to any sort of religious belief, Sweet Pea would say that his time with Veronica Lodge had made him surmise that angels existed. 

Veronica, with her dark hair and sassy attitude, was like the youthful embodiment of his mother Georgia. She was independent and took shit from no one – two traits Sweet Pea admired most about her. She was gorgeous, which was a definite plus, with tits out of this world, but it was her fiery sense of self-confidence that had him truly hypnotized. It was like he had never met anyone like her, and her presence during this drama with Polly and Betty made him want to fight harder, prove his worth to the club like never before. Dare he confess that her driving force caused him to want to be a better man. 

Betty came out of the dark lit length of the hallway in a long t-shirt and shorts, crossing over to Jughead at the bar. She leaned in and he delivered a kiss on her cheek. 

“Ready for bed?” she asked. She spotted Toni flirting with the woman further down the bar and watched as the brunette led her new prey off to her bedroom, already beginning to unravel the strings of the woman’s lace-back dress. 

“She’s going to get in so much shit for this.” Betty commented, shaking her head. 

“You think Cheryl’s coming back?” 

“Don’t you?” she asked Jughead. “They only had one fight.” 

“Well, fuck, I don’t know.” He pointed to Sweet Pea for deflection. “This guy knows less about women than I do though, thankfully.” 

Sweet Pea chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s gotten me this far.” 

Betty grinned and whispered to Jughead that she was going to bed. He snuffed out his second cigarette and stood off of the bar stool. He put his hand on Sweet Pea’s shoulder. 

“Good night, brother. And if I were you, I’d stop moping around this bar with your feelings and try to figure out them the fun way.” 

“Fuck off,” Sweet Pea chuckled, shrugging his friend off. As he watched Betty and Jughead walk hand in hand up to the second platform, presumably to have sex and fall asleep, Sweet Pea couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Though the couple still had their shit to work through, there was no denying from any party that love still existed, even if it was buried deep under the trauma of these past ten years. 

He had to be grateful, though, that at least this thing with Veronica was uncomplicated by history. He extinguished his own cigarette and finished off the liquor that was still left in Jughead’s glass. 

Maybe he would go find out just how fun it could be exploring Veronica Lodge again. 

///////

**Scene Six**

The sun was just beginning to rise when Alice stirred from her slumber, encased in the warm and protective arms of the snoring, dark-haired man beside her. She glanced over at the round old-fashioned clock on the bedside table, groaning softly as she thought it was way too early to wake up on a Sunday morning. 

She was contemplating putting on her robe and getting a head start on breakfast when she felt the soft stirring of FP’s face as he buried his nose into her back. 

“Mmm, you smell so good this morning, baby.” 

Alice smiled, a gentle laugh echoing through her chest. “I figured by this point I just smelled like you.” 

She could feel FP shake his head, still rubbing the tip of his nose against her bare back. “No way. I know I don’t smell this good.” 

Alice twisted around, his arm now around her stomach instead of the curve of her hip. She could see his eyes were still closed, almost as if he were trying to fall back asleep, but she felt him begin to trace tiny shapes on her skin under the quilt and she smiled. 

“How come you’re awake this early?” 

“It’s all your fault, woman.” His eyes opened softly, the glaze of sleep still present over his gentle brown. “You’re always up so damn early in that garden. The bed feels cold when you’re gone.” 

She twisted around again to face him and placed her palm against his face, feeling the harsh stubble of his chin brush against her. “That’s such a sweet thing to say, FP. What happened to you?” 

He chuckled lightly. “Like I said, it’s all you, baby. You’ve ruined me.” He leaned in to nuzzle against her cheek, prickly hair on white velvet. His hand draped over her hip deepened, pulling her closer to him. 

“No, no,” she mumbled, pushing off his chest with her palm. “I have to get up, FP. I know what you’re trying to do and I need to start fixing breakfast before everyone wakes up.” 

His lips fell to her neck, pressing gentle kisses down its length. “Make them wait. Those ungrateful children can fix their own damn breakfast. The king needs to eat first.” 

She closed her eyes, giving in to the pleasurable sensation of his rough hands and firm lips traveling across her skin. He cupped her breast with a calloused hand and flicked her nipple with the thick padding of his thumb. 

“And what does that make me? The Serpent King’s concubine?” Alice chuckled. 

FP’s lips came up to her jawline and began to nibble in an uneven pattern along the bone. “You know you could be more than that if you wanted.” 

She sighed softly. “I know how you feel, FP. I’m just not sure how this goes, you and I, with Betty and Jughead so torn up in each other.” 

He detached from her jaw, bringing his eyes up to look into hers. “We were here first,” he said indignantly. She grinned. 

“True, but they don’t know that. And we were just friends when they first got together. Plus, there’s that whole thing about you not wanting this to be public.” 

His head pulled back further from her, his brow furrowed. “I never said that, Ali. I said it wasn’t safe for us to go around parading our relationship in town, not while this shit with Blossom is still going on. You’re too precious for me to risk.” 

Alice nodded. “And I get that – but when are we ever going to be free, FP? Blossom is no closer to being stopped than he was before. I’m hesitant too, believe me. After what happened to Hal, I realize the danger that comes with being attached to you. But at this point, after all these years of living at the Wyrm, you would think he would have acted out by now.” 

FP sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t feel comfortable bringing our business out for the whole Southside to see. Around the Wyrm, I’m fine with that. I welcome that. I’m not even that sure we’ve hidden what we have very well. But when it goes beyond those doors, I don’t want to risk it.” 

Alice rolled her eyes and moved to get out of bed, but FP tightened his grip around her side. 

“And just where are you going?” 

“I’m not in the mood, FP.” 

He grumbled and relaxed his arms, allowing her to slip out of his hold. She crossed to a chair by his window where her blouse was slung over the back. He watched as she fiddled with the fabric, turning it back outside in. 

To FP, Alice Cooper was ageless. Her body had been saved from the usual effects of time, her breasts still perky and round and her bottom perfectly curved along the line of her silhouette. She had been toying with the length of her hair over the past couple of years, but he liked her current look, a soft bob curling at the shoulders, turned inward at the ends. There were small strands of gray interwoven in her blonde, but she could easily pass for someone in their late 30’s rather than the 52 she was now. 

The first time he had Alice Cooper, they were both drunk, teenagers awkwardly tumbling around the bed of his father’s old pick-up truck. He still remembered thinking she was the most delicious thing he had ever seen, naked under the starlit sky above the bank of Sweetwater River where they were parked. Looking at her now, nearly 35 years later, he still got hard. 

They had dated briefly, the chemistry between them incredibly heavy, but he was too focused on motorcycles and getting hammered that he missed out on the good thing in front of him – and when Alice had dumped him and settled with Hal Cooper right out of senior year, FP realized he had made a giant mistake. Now that they were older and life had tossed them around a bit, he promised himself he wasn’t going to let her go. 

“Ali, can you please put that shirt down and get back in bed with me? I didn’t mean to upset you.” 

“I’m not upset. I’m just getting up to make breakfast. I don’t want to lay in bed all day.” 

“What’s so wrong with that? Seriously, babe – you do everything for us here at the Wyrm. You deserve an extra hour or two to lounge around and not think about anyone other than yourself.” 

She hesitated, giving temptation time to sink in. After a beat, she gave in, tossing her shirt on the floor. 

“Fine, you’ve convinced me.” She watched as he pulled the covers back for her and she slid under, tucking the quilt around her backside as she snuggled into him for warmth. 

“Now what are we going to do with that extra hour, huh?” 

She laughed against his chest, the sound vibrating through his torso and down his spine. “Sleep!” 

She felt the rough tips of his fingers tap along her front. They traced a slow lazy circle around the nipple of one breast before traveling down to her navel. He pressed a firm line from her belly button down below her hips, probing the entrance of her core with a low growl. 

“Seems like your body’s too awake to sleep.” 

“Goddamnit, FP,” she moaned as he pressed his finger deeper into her, trailing from her clit downward until he was all the way inside her. He pushed in and out of her as her hips pistoned back and forth, her slickness coating his single digit. 

“You feel so good, baby.” He felt lost in the feel of her wrapped around his finger, the quick quiver of her walls tightening and relaxing over and over. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss just beneath her jaw, his tongue peeking out to lick the taste of her slowly. His lips pressed further down her neck and along her collarbone, sucking on the skin there, marking her where he knew her cardigans and signature blouse sets would cover. 

When he moved further, his mouth coming around to cup her nipple between the firm padding of his lips, she arched her back and groaned. FP felt the stiffness of his length below the covers brush against the tip of her hand as she began to palm him, moaning as she pumped him roughly. 

“Looks like you’re much too awake to sleep either.” 

FP chuckled before his laughter turned into a guttural groan, her hand tightening around him as she quickened her pace. He matched her rhythm and together their bodies moved in synchronicity, writhing beside each other underneath the quilt of FP’s bed. 

She released him in her hand and pushed her palm against his chest, dislodging his finger from inside her. He rested on his back and brought his hands up to cradle the back of his head, watching as she straddled his hips, her naked breasts bouncing lightly with the movement. 

She pressed her hands just above his navel for balance as she lifted up and found him erect and ready for her. She slid down his length, taking him all the way in, and she rolled up and down. Her hands flew up to cup her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers as she bounced. 

“Fuck, you always ride me so good, Ali.” 

She smirked, her hands still playing with her breasts. “Anything for my King.” 

He growled, his hands flying out from behind his head to grip her hips, pushing himself up into her harder and harder with every thrust. She tossed her head back and moaned into the air around them, her hands sliding up her chest to find her hair as her fingers began to card and tug at the strands. 

“Does that feel good, FP?” 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” 

“You want to come?” 

“Yes, baby.” 

“You want me to make you come right now?” 

He groaned as he swiftly sat up, thrusting into her from a deeper angle. “Not yet, baby. In this bed, the Queen always comes first.” 

She groaned as she felt her core ache and twitch with the tingle of impending climax. She reached down with one finger and pressed roughly on her clit, wiggling the sensitive bundle with the rhythm of his thrusts. Her nerves sprang to life and she felt like jumping out of her skin with how good she was feeling. 

He encouraged her with quick whispers of “yes” as she rode him, fingering her clit with wild abandonment. He was mesmerized by the sight of her, almost a reflection of the girl he once knew with a reckless spirit and feral sensuality. There above him, no one could tame Alice but herself, sitting upon his dick like a queen on her throne, mad with power. The typical restraint she held in public was cast aside there in his bedroom, night after night, and each time she transformed it filled him with uncontained longing. 

He felt her begin to tremble, her lips enveloping him quivering just before she flew off of the cliff into climax. Her core was hot liquid, molten and glorious, enough to pull from his own desire. He gripped her hips tighter and drove himself into her with one deep thrust before he was spilling himself inside, the warmth of her walls inviting as they clenched around him. 

It took her a moment before she collapsed down upon him, resting her head on his chest while she fought to regulate her breathing. Her fingers crawled up the length of his right arm to draw soft circles along his bicep and over his shoulder, pressing lightly into the tattoo she knew he now regretted, a half-naked woman dancing in dark blue ink, the name “Gladys” written in large cursive letters – an unwelcome reminder of the wife that left him. 

Instead of dwelling on the “what might have been” had Gladys and Hal never shown up in their lives, the two obstacles that added to the distance between herself and FP, she tried to focus on the positive. Her fingers traced down to his forearm as her eyes took in the image there – a bottle of booze with nine tally marks striking the skin with the words “All Pleasure comes with a Price,” a representation of his struggle with sobriety. FP had come so far in his journey to becoming the man she knew he could be. 

She could remember that night when he had tumbled halfway down the stairs from his room, slipping on one of the steps in his drunken haze. His first goal – not to ensure he was okay, but to get another drink. He reeked of booze, hadn’t showered in what seemed like days, and he was a downright mess. Alice had watched him from across the bar, settling down in one of the booths with a cocktail of her own. She realized that night she had grown fed up with seeing him waste his potential and give in to the demons of his past. 

She had yanked him out of the bar and into her bedroom, where she sat him down on the corner of her bed and forced a glass of water down his throat, along with several searing words of wisdom. It wasn’t often Alice let her true anger out for the world to see, but that night she let FP have it, digging into him with harsh word after word of brutal honesty. She knew he had been dealing with issues that could and would drive a man to drink. His wife had left him in the cold of night not long after their only daughter had died of an illness they couldn’t fix. For a man like FP, virile and prime to the men in his club, that lack of control had been hard for him to swallow. When communicating with Gladys was tough, he turned to drinking. 

To be fair, Gladys had never been a particularly warm woman. She and Alice got along enough to co-exist at the Wyrm, but they were never _friends._ Alice figured it attributed to her history with her husband, one once filled with romance replaced with awkward run-ins and offers of protection. However, Alice knew FP had been enamored with the dark-haired Gladys from the moment they met, drawn to her spunky spirit and wild blue eyes. 

Therefore, Alice tolerated Gladys because deep down she still cared for FP and wanted nothing but the best for him. Even if she couldn’t have her husband, she wouldn’t deny FP the right to be with the woman he loved. When Gladys walked out, it had tarnished that happiness with a thick layer of muck that blinded FP from the good still in his life – his son, his club, his own healthy life. 

Alice spent the remainder of that night reminding FP of all the blessings he still had, including their friendship, and threatened to distance herself from him if he couldn’t get his act together. Reluctantly, FP had agreed, passing out not long after under the sheets of Alice’s bed as she soothed him in his sleep with the gentle caress of her hand on his head. 

She took care of him that night, both body and soul, and when FP awoke with the worst hangover of his life, he vowed to do right by her, by Jughead, and by himself. He took a shower, shaved, and hadn’t picked a bottle up ever since. 

“Now wasn’t that worth sleeping in for?” 

Alice chuckled lightly, pinching the skin of his arm as he jumped and winced beneath her. “You’re shameless, FP.” She lifted her head and pressed a gentle kiss onto his lips. “But that’s why I love you.” 

He smiled and rubbed a hand over her bottom lovingly, possessively. “I love you too, Ali. Now let’s go feed those hoodlums.” 

///////

**Scene Seven**

It was just after eight in the morning when Betty and Jughead made their way down into the main bar. Alice had set out two pots of hot coffee, along with a pan of scrambled eggs and ham. Jughead was working on his second cup of coffee when Cheryl sauntered back into the bar, her taxi barreling out of the parking lot in a cloud of dust. 

She wore the same clothes she had left in the night before and she looked surprisingly refreshed. She dug into her purse and pulled out a tube of lipstick, running a thin line of red color across her lips. 

“Good morning, everyone,” she greeted, walking toward Toni’s bedroom. Betty opened her mouth to stop her but it was too late. Cheryl turned the knob and disappeared inside. 

It took about thirty seconds before Cheryl was storming out of Toni’s bedroom, the brunette hot on her heels. They got about halfway across the bar before Cheryl pivoted on her heel and swung around to face Toni. Her finger was already up and aimed at Toni’s chest. 

“You couldn’t keep your fingers clean for a single fucking night, could you?” 

Toni opened her mouth to speak but Cheryl cut her off. 

“Don’t speak – I can’t believe you right now. And to think I spent the whole night drinking down at Midge’s, missing you. What is wrong with you that makes you so fucking damaged, so resistant to anyone caring about you? Why are you so afraid of love that at the first sign of conflict, you find some other pussy to fuck?” 

She stepped forward and pressed her finger into Toni’s chest. Beside them, a thin blonde in a tiny black dress with silver studs slithered out from Toni’s bedroom and hustled her way out of the bar, fear written all over her face at the sight of Cheryl’s terrifying expression. 

“It would be so easy to let you off the hook right now – let you fall back into your shitty habit of putting those walls up and never letting them down when you get hurt. I’m not that kind of girl, Toni. I don’t scare easily and I don’t run away from what I want. You won’t get rid of me like that.” 

“I don’t deserve you, Cheryl. I’m just going to break your heart. It’s what I do!” 

“I don’t give a shit,” Cheryl proclaimed. “You can try and break my heart a million times and I’m still going to be here. That’s what you do when you care about somebody. You fight for them, you see through their bullshit and you call them out on it. You help them change for the better.” 

“You can try and change me. Many women have. But I’m just too fucked up to fix.” 

Cheryl’s finger dropped from Toni’s chest and she reached up to cup her face. Looking her deep in the eye, Cheryl smiled, her face softening for the first time that morning. 

“But I’m still going to try. Won’t you please just let me?” 

Toni stared at Cheryl, the closest thing to love she had ever felt written there in her eyes. She reached up to cup Cheryl’s face in her own hands and they leaned in together to press a firm kiss on each other’s lips. 

As Betty watched their confrontation and the myriad of emotions that crossed between them, she felt her own uncertain status with Jughead come directly to the forefront of her mind. He sat next to her, sipping his coffee and looking like he had his own thoughts to wrestle with. 

The last couple of days between them had been a rediscovery for her of what it felt like to love him. Their kisses had been hot, the sex mind-blowingly amazing, but it was the affection he showed that had her so hung up. Even though they had taken down one barrier and he had opened up to her, even though she could feel him reach out for her in the middle of the night, he was still so guarded. She didn’t know if she had made any strides toward forgiveness. There would be a moment when he acted like the past hadn’t existed, but then he’d make some comment about her leaving that left her feeling guilt-ridden. 

She gathered her dishes and carried them to the kitchen, stacking them gently in the sink. At that moment, the only thing that sounded amazing was a long, hot shower where she could set her thoughts aside, an uncomfortable level of anxiety overcoming her. 

Betty crossed down the hall to her room, the image of a shower turning into a bubble bath in her mind. As she gathered her clothes to change into, she heard the turn of the knob behind her. 

Jughead inched his way inside the room. “You okay, Betty?” 

She frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“I don’t know,” Jughead shrugged. “You ducked out of there after Toni and Cheryl were fighting. You just looked sort of uncomfortable.” 

Betty cleared her throat. “It was kind of hard to listen to Cheryl go off on Toni. I mean – everything she said was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. Everything between you and I is still so up in the air. I felt like Toni back there, the one who thought it was easier to push you away than stay and make it work. Look at where we are now.” 

“And where are we now, Betty?” 

“I don’t know. I still think you haven’t forgiven me.” 

“And I still think you’re trying to push me away.” 

She stopped digging through her dresser for a change of clothes. “How can you think that? We’ve spent the last several nights together.” 

“But that doesn’t mean shit if you can’t let me into your heart.” 

“Jug, I can’t let you back in if I don’t know that you’re willing to forgive me.” 

“Well, that’s going to be a problem because I won’t be willing to forgive you until you learn to take a chance and open yourself back up to me. I mean – shit, what are we doing right now? Fucking each other until we realize that we’re in love with each other? We’re not Veronica and Sweet Pea. That’s not how this works between us.” 

“That’s not what we’ve been doing, Jughead.” Betty exhaled heavily. Her hands came up to cradle her head as she ran her fingers over her tired face. “I just don’t know how to get passed this garbage. I can’t go back and change the past. I can’t make it right, what I did.” 

“But you can fix this right here, right now.” 

“And how do I do that? I’ve tried apologizing. That’s not enough. I give you my body, something not easily done for me. That’s not enough. Do you want me to say that I regret my choices? I can’t do that. Everything I did led to a better, stronger version of me than I was stuck here at the Whyte Wyrm. Did I love you all of those years ago? You’re damn right I did, with every single fiber of my being. You were my everything, Jughead.” 

“And now? Am I anything to you other than the man you run to for help? You take up residency in my bar, but where do I live, Betty? Where do I set up my home? In your heart? You won’t let me.” He began to pace, his temper beginning to spark. “Fuck, Betty, there are times I’m inside you and you’re still somehow so far away like your mind is miles apart from your body.” 

“That’s because looking at you and being present here with you is still so incredibly painful for me, Jughead. I don’t regret my choices, but I know I missed out on all of the time we could have had together. Now, there’s just so much damage I have no idea if we can move beyond it. I want to, but as soon as I take that step forward, let you in just a little, my instinct tells me to take a step back.” 

“Is that your instinct or your fear? What are you so fucking afraid of, Betty? I’m not the one that’s going to run out on you.” 

“There! There it is, right there. I’m not your mother, Jughead, and this guilt shit you throw at me has to stop. How am I going to give you my heart again if I’m constantly on edge that you’re going to hurt me with the past? You need to drop the last ten years if you want any of this to go forward.” 

“I can’t just erase the last ten years, Betty. That time meant something to me. You’re not the only one who did some growing while we were apart. I learned to be a bigger, better leader for my men. I learned how to pull myself out of a hole that I didn’t dig, that – yes – you dug for me. And you did leave—just like my mother. I can’t promise that I’ll forget what happened during that gap of time. That pain was the worst I’ve ever felt, more painful than any knife or gun shot. I know you’ve told me that you did it for the benefit of both of us, but you literally did the one thing that could hurt me the most.” He ran his hands through his bedhead, still messy from sleep. 

“Now I have the extraordinary chance to let you back in – a second chance. I’ve been fighting it, doing my damnedest to ignore the way I feel for you, but I just can’t. I love you, Betty Cooper. I have since we were kids, I have even when you weren’t here. You’ve never left, which is why the pain always feels so fresh. I can’t get used to how it feels to have you gone from my life because you’ve taken up space inside my head and my heart that I can’t seem to get back. Goddamn it, all I want is for you to let me love you. Let me in, Betty. Let me love you.” 

Betty stood with her mouth open, willing herself to speak but no words would come. She wanted to tell him that she loved him, always had loved him, and always will love him – but fear was a cruel mistress and his inability to promise full forgiveness held her back. 

“Just give me time, Jugh –“ 

“Betty, we’ve had enough time. We’ve had ten years. You either know you want me in your life or you don’t. You either let me in or you kick me out. I can’t be half in the door, Betty. I won’t live my life that way.” 

Before her, he looked so incredibly vulnerable, his hands balled up by his side and his eyes wide with desperation. It broke her heart a little to know that he was able to be so open with her after all of the pain between them and she wished more than anything that she could open up and tell him how much she wanted to be as trusting as him, how grateful she was that he was even willing to give trusting her another chance at all. At this moment, Betty knew words would not do justice to everything she was feeling. 

She crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips crushing his roughly. His hands came down to squeeze her ass, pressing her hard against his body. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He shot across the room and threw her down on the bed, her golden hair a soft halo across his dark blue sheets. 

She threw off the t-shirt she wore, an old one of his that she had picked up off the floor that morning. Her breasts were exposed, confinement-free as she had opted to go braless for breakfast. He dipped down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as she writhed underneath him. Her hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt and she began to rip the fabric, the urge to touch too powerful. He leaned back, releasing her nipple with a stiff “pop,” and helped her remove his shirt. 

She hopped off of the bed and began to remove her shorts and panties, watching as the dark haze of lust filled his eyes as he inspected her naked body like a hungry predator. She reached for the buckle of his jeans, yanking him closer as she undid the hook in the slat and pulled the belt out of its designated loops. She popped open the button and pulled down the zipper, her hand flying inside the seam of his boxers to find him hard and throbbing. 

“Jesus,” he whispered throatily, his head tilted back in ecstasy as she wrapped her palm around him and pumped. 

“You’re so goddamn hard, baby.” 

“Mmm, I love when you start talking dirty.” 

Betty chuckled as she felt him twitch in her hand. “As much as I know you love it, I’m tired of foreplay. I want you to fuck me right now.” 

He began to shove her back toward the wall, her hand coming loose in his pants. He grabbed both of her wrists and held them above her head. “You’re not getting it that easy, baby. I want you squirming.” He released her wrists and knelt down in front of her. He lifted her right leg and draped it over his shoulder and back. His mouth found her exposed pussy, glistening at the entrance with arousal, and his tongue dove right in. 

Her back arched off the wall as her hand flew directly to the top of his head, tugging roughly at the strands of his hair. 

“Juggie…” she whimpered, her hips bucking as his mouth feasted between her legs. He lapped at her thick juices, the sweet and salty taste intoxicating. One of his fingers teased the outer lips of her entrance while another dove into her tight hole, thrusting inside her over and over. 

Suddenly, he lifted her body up the length of the wall until he was standing. She wrapped her other leg around his shoulder as she bent forward, her breasts pressing against the top of his head while his hands rose to brace her up. He walked her the few steps to the bed as his mouth drank from her center, the angle of his tongue inside her driving her wild. 

He threw her down roughly onto the mattress and he looked utterly predatory. It thrilled her and her body shivered in anticipation. He reached into his boxers and pulled his cock out, its thick shaft bulging as the tip glistened with pre-cum. He bent down over her and shoved himself inside her, his eyes closing as he felt her legs wrap around his hips, deepening the angle of his cock within her. 

He fucked her hard, the bed banging against the wall unceremoniously. Her nails dug into his back and she was panting for air, fighting back a scream as she felt him hit deeper with each thrust. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jughead – you’re too deep. It’s too much,” she uttered, her head shaking back and forth. He could feel the quivering of her lower lips and knew she was close. 

“Come on, baby. Come all over me. You can do it.” 

Her nails dug even deeper as her body responded to his encouraging plea, climax shooting through her body like a firework. It erupted where they were joined and he felt the warm slide of her come from within. 

He continued to bang into her, his own orgasm just on the edge. Her hands slid from his back limply and he found them with his own, lacing their fingers in a tight grip as he pounded into her over and over. 

This was their way of purging the hate that remained within them, ridding their hearts of the hurt and the pain as they slowly began to make themselves available for something more. Everything that had been said between them was necessary, setting fire to the hurt they shared separately for a decade, and now they could bloom out of the ash – a more beautiful, more whole version of who they were together. 

“Betts, you’re mine, you’re so fucking mine.” He reached down with his lips and captured hers in a deep, toe-curling kiss. 

“I’ve always been yours, Jug.” She caught his eyes with hers as their bodies matched in rhythm. “Come inside me, Jug. Make me yours forever.” 

As she spoke, he felt his thrusts lose control, his rhythm turning erratic as he beat into her. He could feel the shooting heat release from his throbbing cock, the thick load of his climax filling her to the hilt. 

As he fought to catch his breath, his eyes anchored into hers and there he found love, real and complete love, for the first time since they first came together. Her walls were down and she was giving him an in, there in her eyes an invitation for him to make space in her heart. 

“I love you, Jughead.” 

He leaned down to kiss her again, this one soft and slow. “I love you too, baby.” 

///////

**Scene Eight**

Minutes later, Betty and Jughead had rejoined the group down in the main bar as everyone prepared for the day. They carried with them the heavy glow of love and sexual release, earning a spiteful glare from Veronica and Sweet Pea. 

Both of their heads turned, however, at the sound of a car door slamming. Across the dusty parking lot of the Whyte Wyrm, they could see the frightened form of Polly Cooper, waddling hurriedly along the path to the bar’s entrance. Her dress was slightly torn around the shoulder and her beautiful face, embellished in the signature delicate good Cooper genes, was marred by an ugly purple bruise around her left eye. 

Betty felt the pit of her stomach bottom out, her skin frozen despite the hot sun. She rushed out to meet Polly, desperation in both of their steps. When they were five feet away, Betty opened her arms wide and enveloped Polly as her sister nearly collapsed, brought down by the sheer relief in being somewhere safe. 

“Betty, Betty,” she sobbed, shaking her head into her sister’s chest. “I was so wrong, I was so wrong. He betrayed me, He –“ but she was cut off by another round of wracking sobs. 

Betty tried to soothe her sister by running her hands down her sister’s hair, whispering “shh, shh” in comforting tones. Betty could hear the sounds of her mother’s cries behind her coming closer, bridging the gap between the bar and their embrace. She could feel Alice’s arms wrap around them both and feel her tears as they fell onto her shoulder. 

Betty and Alice helped Polly to shuffle inside the bar so she could sit down and rest. As they moved, Betty looked down and was shocked to find her sister’s belly protruding at what was likely the sixth month mark – she was wildly pregnant and recently abused. 

As they passed the doorway into the bar, and Betty spotted Jughead waiting for them, she shot him a dangerous look and it made the blood in his veins go cold. 

_Betty Cooper was out for blood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
> **Scene Four:**
> 
> \--“Ugly” by Jaira Burns
> 
> **Scene Seven:**
> 
> \--“Paint It Black” by Ciara 


	5. GUN TO THE GUT, HAMMER TO THE HEART, BLOW TO THE BRAIN

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.
> 
> However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve only got one more act to follow, folks! I cannot tell you how much I am overwhelmed by all of the love “Ouroboros” have received. From all of your comments, kudos, tumblr reblogs and likes, and the hefty list of Bughead Fanfiction Award nominations – you guys rock and you make my world a brighter place to be in.
> 
> A few notes before we get into Act Five – this one is extremely violent in contrast to the other chapters. It’s not like a war scene, but there are graphic details of violence, so if that is not what you came for, now would be the time to go back. Also, I’ve created a made up location called “The Scythe” as the Ghoulie’s main hangout. As far as I know, it’s not a place in canon, but I wanted to mention that because I don’t go into much detail about it before it’s mentioned.
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter than the others (just barely over 10K) but that’s mostly because there’s so much compressed into a tiny amount. I hope you can forgive me!
> 
> Also, I plan on releasing a soundtrack list soon with all of the songs from these chapters on tumblr. You can follow me there (elegantmoonchild) for more updates. As some of you are aware, I am also working on a new fic centered around Sweet Pea x Veronica Lodge. A lot of you responded well to the SweetVee ship, so I’ve decided to give you more! It’s called “No Angel” and there has been a teaser released on tumblr. If you do not have tumblr and would like more info, send me a comment and I’ll fill ya in! 
> 
> Lastly, a quick shout out to DireStark aka @thenerdylatina -- you wanted Bad Ass Betty Cooper -- you got her!
> 
> Again, thanks for all of the love and I hope you enjoy Act Five!
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination. 

**Scene One**

“This isn’t up for discussion, Betty. There’s no way in Hell I’m going to approve for you and a group of my men to go, guns-blazing, into the Ghoulies’ lair without physical provocation.” 

“Are you kidding me? What do you call the bruises on Polly’s face, Jug? Is that not enough physical provocation for you?” Betty glared daggers into Jughead, searing his skin with the heat in her emerald green. “That’s enough for me, and I won’t let this son of a bitch get away with it.” 

Jughead sighed, stepping back behind the bar to grab a shot glass. “Betty, of course I hate seeing what happened to Polly. It boils my blood to think of some man laying a hand on a woman, especially the woman carrying his child. But to go off half-cocked is dangerous and only gives him the advantage. I’m sorry, but my vote is no and in this bar, my word is law.” 

“Got a bit of a big head there, don’t ya think?” she goaded. She was raring for a fight. 

Jughead poured himself a shot of Jim Bean, tossed it back. “Watch it, Betty.” The burn of the liquor spilled out in the harsh exhale of his warning. 

“Well, I’m not a Serpent and your law means shit to me.” She grabbed hold of the shot glass as he reached out to pour another drink. 

He sighed out exasperatedly, throwing his hands up in frustration. “What the Hell do you expect me to do, Betty? Let you walk out of this bar and get yourself killed? I think if you believe that, you’ve seriously misjudged the kind of man I am.” 

“And I think if you believe I’m the type of woman who’s going to sit back and twiddle her thumbs, watching the bruises fade days later on her sister’s face instead of taking out the man that put them there – well, you’ve seriously misjudged me, Jughead Jones.” 

She threw the shot glass on the floor a few feet away from him and he closed his eyes, hearing the shattering of glass and the stomping of her feet as she stormed down the back hall. 

They had been at it all afternoon, shouting at each other in the aftermath of Polly’s arrival and the bombshell of her news. One look at her sister’s beat up face and Betty was raging, her fists curled inward to dig into her skin. She made an open vow to confront Jason Blossom and Jughead had immediately shut it down. To say her fury was anything less than spectacular would be an understatement. 

Betty had the true streak of Cooper stubbornness and it ran deep, especially when it came to her loyalty for her loved ones. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for someone in distress or in danger, and he was a prime example, even though there were still parts of him that didn’t understand how she thought walking out on him all those years ago would be for the betterment of his life with the Serpents. 

He could see her intent, even forgive her for the senseless pain that had been caused by her rash decision, but it wouldn’t make it easy for him to warm to the idea of her being in physical danger to enact some age-old vendetta. 

Because that’s what this was. This bloodbath between the Serpents and the Ghoulies where the Coopers were concerned stemmed from that fatal blast in Hal Cooper’s car, the horrifying event that led them to the Serpents in the first place. Polly’s predicament had been the catalyst, but her father’s murder had been the spark that started it all. 

He thought about giving Betty more time to cool off but truthfully he was tired of being angry with her, tired of her being angry with him. They had lost so much time to wasted spite. He couldn’t bear to think what it might feel like to lose her again. Though the pain had nearly faded, almost so faint it was hard to recall exactly how it felt, Jughead knew all the same it was a crippling sort of hurt like a blade twisted through the heart. 

He stalked down the hall to her bedroom and knocked softly, not waiting for her reply before pushing open the door that was cracked. Betty was busy folding clothes and placing them into a dresser and for one sickening moment, his stomach took a hard lurch at the thought that she might be packing to leave. 

“Betty, I’m sorry for getting so upset with you. I don’t want to keep having this same argument with you, over and over.” 

Betty huffed, exhaling as she halted her folding. She set aside the small stack of cotton t-shirts in her hand onto the bed. “I know, Jug. I’m tired too.” 

“We both know this shit isn’t just about Polly. I can’t even imagine the hurt I would feel if something were to happen to you under my watch, on my call. I’d never be able to forgive myself. Can’t you see that?” 

“Jughead, I know that you’re worried about my safety, and I appreciate it. I’m an adult, though, and was when I left here all those years ago. I know how to make a bed and I know how to lie in it, even if it means getting a little violent. Polly is my sister. She’s incredibly important to me. She’s the entire reason I came home. Damnit, I knew something was off!” Betty plucked the plastic white hamper from the bed and threw it to the ground. Tears began to form in her eyes. 

As much as it stung to hear her say Polly was the sole reason she was back, he tried to push his insecurity aside, stepping forward to pull her into his arms. She hesitated, but accepted the embrace and allowed herself to be wrapped inward toward his chest. 

“You could not have prevented this, Betts. Polly has always had a mind of her own. She’s just like you, never one to be told no.” He felt her smile against his chest. He stroked a hand down her back, catching the cascade of her wavy blonde hair through his fingertips. “The important thing is that she’s here safe with you, and you’re here to give her and the baby all of the emotional support that they’ll need. She looked pretty shaken up when she got here.” 

“Yeah,” she mumbled, wiping her tears on the front of his shirt. “It just pains me to see her hurt like that. I can’t believe any man would put his hands on a woman like that.” 

“That’s not a man, baby. Jason Blossom is a coward, just like his father, hidden behind the wealth of privilege and a faulty criminal justice system. But he’ll get what’s coming to him one day, Betty. Trust me.” 

And just as Jughead was silently vowing to give Jason a swift kick in the ass the next time they had a meet-up, Betty was internally strategizing his demise – both of them still holding on to their embrace. 

“Jughead, get out here!” 

The shout of Joaquin’s voice echoed down the hall into her open bedroom, his tone urgent and serious. Jughead released Betty and they both flew out of the room toward the bar. 

The garage door was open, letting in the afternoon sun and dust. Toni, Cheryl, Veronica and Joaquin were standing in a semi-circle, facing out toward the parking lot. As Jughead and Betty rounded the corner and looked out into the doorway, Betty felt her muscles seize up in anger. 

Jason Blossom and two other Ghoulies were situated on their motorcycles, the engines running and creating a loud ruckus of noise. When Jason made eye contact with Betty, his lips came up into a smirk. 

“If it isn’t the Serpent Prince and his Queen – so glad we could steal some of your attention this afternoon.” 

Jughead felt his fists curl up by his sides. “What the fuck do you want, Blossom?” 

“Where’s Polly? I know that little bitch came running here this morning. She needs to get her ass back home and I’m here to get her.” He snapped his fingers at the two bikers behind him and they motioned to dismount. 

“I know you don’t think I’m actually going to let them into this bar and take her, do you? Surely you’re not that stupid. You need to get the Hell off my property before those bikes of yours end up in tonight’s bonfire.” 

Jason sneered and nodded at his two henchmen. They chose to stay put. 

Sweet Pea had then entered the bar, running up and landing beside Jughead with a shotgun aimed right at Jason. 

“You better tell your little trigger boy to stand down. He’s not the only one packing heat around here.” 

“Give it a shot, Blossom. See who loses a hand first,” Sweet Pea threatened, pumping the hammer of the gun, ready to shoot. 

“You have no authority here, Jason. Kick shit and get out of here. Polly’s not going with you.” Jughead spit on the ground at Jason’s feet. 

Jason looked down at the spot on the ground and dismissed it. He then turned his attention back at Betty, his eyes dragging up and down the length of her body, taking in the way her shorts framed her long tan legs, licking his lips at the hug of the denim around the curve of her hips. 

“What do you say, Elizabeth? How about we make a deal? I’m tired of dealing with your trailer trash boyfriend. What say you to a little exchange – a swap of sorts? Polly can stay here. Grow fat with her baby, live off the bare minimum here at the Wyrm. You hop on my bike right now and come rule with me? You look like you could put up a fight better than your weak sister.” 

Jughead stepped forward, fists lifted to attack, but halted when Jason whipped his pistol out of his holster and aimed it at him. 

“Not quite, Jones. Back away before I blow.” 

Jughead seemed to consider his threat, weighing whether landing at least one good solid shot before being hit with a bullet would be worth it. He backed away into the bar, his fists relaxing only slightly. 

“Speaking of, I better see one of the Cooper women in my home by the end of the week or Hell will come raining down on this place like no other.” He looked directly into Jughead’s eyes, their faces both tense and frightening. “Don’t forget about that little smoke-show on the 4th. You know what we can do. It would only be too easy to see this place go down in flames.” 

Jason turned back to Betty, slowly lowering the gun back down and holstering it back in the sleeve around his belt. 

“Consider it, babe. You know the Blossom fortune could take you further than this dump. Come find out what it feels like to have a real man between those luscious thighs.” 

Betty, her mind spinning with so much anger she was fighting to find grounding, finally settled enough to find her voice. 

“Eat shit, Jason.” 

He smirked at her, revving his engine before he led the other Ghoulies out of the parking lot and down the access road toward the north side of town, a cloud of noxious dust blowing in their wake. 

Sweet Pea ran after them, shotgun in hand as he took off toward the edge of the parking lot. Once they were out of sight, he ambled back toward the bar door, coughing from the dirt and dust. 

Jughead turned and looked at Betty, measuring her up, and he could see it in her eyes, read it in the way she folded her arms across her chest. _Retaliation was inevitable._

He cut her off before they began another argument, his nerves frayed enough from this most recent event. 

“We’ll talk about this later, Betty.” 

It wasn’t up for discussion, and Jughead stalked off out of the bar, punching a hole into the wall as he walked toward the back door and out to the patio. 

Veronica crossed over to Betty, laying a hand on her shoulder. “You alright, B?” 

Betty nodded, licking her lips in thought. “Yeah, thanks Veronica. Look, as much as I don’t want to see anybody here get hurt, I want Jason to pay. Jughead’s resistant, but you heard Jason – he’s not going to stop until he gets whatever it is that he wants. I’m not letting Polly fall back into that hellhole.” 

Veronica stared at her as Betty bit down and nibbled at her bottom lip in nervousness. 

“V, I may need your help.” 

Veronica took a moment to consider then nodded and tightened her grip on Betty’s shoulder, a reassuring gesture. “Anything, B. Just let me know what you need.” 

///////

**Scene Two**

Jughead paced around the bar, tugging at the bottom hem of his crown beanie, deep in thought. Betty stood watching him, arms crossed, her toe tapping with impatience. Sweet Pea sat on a barstool across the room from her, cracking his knuckles in anticipation while Veronica posted up behind Betty, her legs crossed as she sat in one of the back booths of the bar. 

Men vs. women, delay vs. strike now. 

“I still haven’t changed my mind, Betty. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to attack now. The Ghoulies will be expecting it, their little display earlier an obvious attempt at baiting.” Jughead’s voice was firm with authority. 

But Betty was stubborn and she wasn’t interested in backing down. 

“They are going to be dangerous no matter when we strike, Jughead. Better now when everyone’s heated and motivated. How would it look if we just waited to retaliate? What kind of message would it send?” 

“That we’re smart, for starters! That we don’t go off half-cocked because of some pissing match.” 

“This wasn’t some pissing match. This was a direct attack on my sister and a threat on the Wyrm. I sure as Hell remember how it felt the night of the 4th when the shack was destroyed. I don’t want this place to become nothing but cinders.” 

“You think that’s what I want? This place is my home, Betty. _My home._ I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone turn it into rubble, but I’m also not going to send my men into a trap, which is exactly what this is. I’ve been around a lot longer than you have, Betty, and I know what we’re dealing with – not you.” 

“And they know you better than you think. Jason will know you’d want to wait. The longer you delay, the more eyes he’s going to have on you, watching for your every move. The longer you wait, the more pissed off he’s going to get and do something impulsive. Are you really interested in seeing how that plays out?” 

“Betty, I will not be made to look like a fool!” 

“You already look like one!” 

Their shouting carried across the open bar. They glared at each other, tempers building as the others in the room sat waiting with bated breath. 

“Jughead, are you really going to let your pride get in the way right now? Who cares what you look like when this place is razed to the ground. There’s only going to be more death and more blood spilled if we don’t act now.” 

Jughead stood frozen in place, seething as he considered her words. There was truth to what she said, a fact that infuriated him above all else. There was a large part of him that wanted to ride out to the Scythe and stomp out every Ghoulie he came across. He wanted to do that for her, do that for Polly, do that for all of his men he had lost or who had been injured because of this senseless rivalry with the Ghoulies. 

But there was an even bigger part of him that whispered to be safe, to be smart – that paranoid attitude he had adopted ever since his father had warned him to stop putting his own selfish needs before the needs of the club. He had spiraled out before, nearly drowned his men in their own blood while he battled his demons. He couldn’t risk doing the same twice. 

“It’s just not smart, Betty. It’s not wise to not sit back and weigh out every option.” 

“And while we do that, more and more Ghoulies are going to get bold, thinking they have the right to attack the Serpents.” 

Betty turned at the sound of Veronica’s voice. The raven-haired woman had stood from the booth, clicking her heeled boots against the ground as she approached Betty. They stood side by side, staring down Jughead in a show of full feminine force. 

Jughead scowled, looking to Sweet Pea for allegiance. 

“Don’t worry about cocky Ghoulies. Toni and I will take care of them, each and every one.” Sweet Pea flexed his knuckles again, fisting them by his sides in a show of dominance and intimidation. 

“But SP, the two of you cannot possibly think you could take down every Ghoulie that comes our way! How the Hell are we even supposed to leave the Wyrm? You going to do protection runs on us all if we have to run to the store for food? That makes zero sense, just like it makes zero sense to wait. We show our soft underbelly by delaying, giving them more time and more opportunity to gather their resources and attack.” Veronica huffed, her hands snapping to her hips. “Also, no man should ever put his hand on a woman and think he gets to sleep another night peacefully.” 

Sweet Pea could respect that, could appreciate the notion of cleaning the streets of cowardly men, but his loyalty above all was to the club and his duty was to his prince. 

“Blossom’s gotta go, there’s no lie there. But Jughead’s right. We have to play this cool, wait for the right moment to strike.” 

Beside him, Jughead nodded fervently but Veronica was starting to become more agitated. 

“Then I’m with Betty in whatever she decides to do. Maybe it’s best if we go our own way. You boys do your thing, Betty and I will take care of our own business.” 

“Veronica’s right – if you guys won’t help us, we’ll find our own means to take down Jason.” 

“Ronnie, this is ridiculous. You’re going to get yourself killed.” 

“And you’re just going to let that happen, Pea? You know it’s smart for us to attack now, before the deadline when Jason expects us to show up at the Scythe.” 

Sweet Pea pulled up the sleeve to his cotton tee beneath the denim cut he wore. He pointed to the ouroboros tattoo on his bicep, the words underneath. “You see this? This is what I know – my loyalty is to my VP. What he says, I do. I’m not going to break that just because some skirt thinks she can suddenly wield a gun.” 

Veronica looked muffed, a bit taken aback. “Some skirt, huh? Well shit, Sweet Pea, it’s good to know we can’t count on you either. We don’t need another coward getting in the way of us taking one down.” She turned on her heel and began to stomp off down the hall toward her bedroom. She pivoted around and shot him a dirty glare. 

“And if you want to know how well I can suddenly wield a gun, come follow me and find out. Otherwise, leave me the Hell alone.” 

When she was gone, Sweet Pea grumbled, feeling completely pissed off. Why did he even bother with women? How did he let one barrel into his life and claw her way into his heart? His mind was all fucked up and he had to struggle to remember his priority first and foremost was to the Serpents – no amount of good pussy could get in the way of that fact. 

Beside the group, Toni took another drink of her beer, setting the bottle down casually on the bar top. She was the only one unaffected by the tension in the room, sauntering over to claim the vacated spot beside Betty. 

“You know, my loyalty is always going to be to you, Jughead, but you’ve got this one wrong. There’s too much at stake here and I’m tired of grown men telling women how to feel when one of their own gets hurt. Normally, I’d saddle up behind you and queue up for a fight, but I’m with blondie on this one.” She turned to face Betty, her lips turned up in a confident smirk. “Let’s go kick dick.” 

“You all are going to get yourselves hurt. This is an incredibly stupid decision and I can’t sit back and watch you put us all in jeopardy.” 

Betty looked at Jughead, a look of disgust beginning to spread across her face. “Who are you, Jughead? What happened to the man I knew who used to be at the front lines, ready to attack with minimal provocation? That man was so gung-ho about fighting, I couldn’t stand it. Where is he now that I need him?” 

Jughead glared at her, his face looking downright lethal. “Upstairs,” he muttered, instructing her to meet him in his room. If there was going to be a showdown, they’d do it in the privacy of his space where they could air out all of the bullshit that had been building. 

Reluctantly, she did as she was told, marching up the staircase to the upper platform. She shoved his bedroom door open, still fuming, but she jumped when he slammed it behind her. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Betty? You really think it’s smart to go head first into this situation?” 

“I think it’s smarter than sitting on our asses like we’ve been doing this whole time. Fuck, I knew we should have acted sooner. I should have known when Cheryl came seeking refuge that we should have pushed harder, canvassed more for information. He’s already had too much time, Jughead – I’m not okay with him getting another day to pull some kind of bullshit like this again.” 

“And what if you get hurt?” 

“I get hurt – that’s the only thing I can say to that. Obviously, I’m going to do what I can to make sure that doesn’t happen, but I can’t be scared for the rest of my life, Jug. You want me to own my Serpenthood so badly? I will never be able to stay here with you, here in this life, without an ounce of danger just outside those doors. Not unless the Ghoulies are gone.” 

“There has to be a better way, Betty, to make that happen. Your future safety cannot come at the expense of your present health.” 

“There’s no other way, Jughead.” 

“And if I lose you?” She could hear his voice break just under the surface, his eyes wide with fear. “That’s not worth risking for me, Betty. I just – I just got you back in my life.” 

Her face softened, touched by his vulnerability. She stepped forward and pressed a gentle palm against his cheek. “Jughead, you won’t lose me. That’s why I need you there beside me. We’re strong apart, we know this now, but we’ve always been stronger together once we get through our bullshit. I love you, Jug. I can put aside my fears about our future, my concerns about how we’re going to make this work if you can do the same for one afternoon. Please, baby,” she pleaded, staring deep into his eyes with a whisper of desperation. 

Jughead took a full minute of silence, staring into her eyes as if searching for some answer to this predicament. All he saw was her sheer determination and though loathe to admit it, he admired her for it. 

“Fine,” he resigned. “But not today. Give me an afternoon with the Serpents to scout out the area, canvas the town for any other Ghoulie nests where we can strike.” 

Betty nodded, but he wasn’t convinced. “Betty, I need you to stay put. Please – for me, I need you to just be patient, just for another day, and I’ll give you what you want.” 

Betty swallowed, choking back the lie in her throat. “Okay, Jughead. I’ll wait for you and the Serpents. But I want to be up bright and early. I have patience, but not much left for this son of a bitch.” 

Jughead nodded and planted a kiss on her forehead. “I promise we’re going to take care of this, baby. I want him to pay just as much as you do.” 

As much as Betty loved Jughead, she doubted that his feelings for Jason Blossom were anywhere near her level of hatred. She told herself she’d wait until the Serpents left to scout before she’d take off. 

///////

**Scene Three**

“Are you absolutely sure you’re ready to do this, B?” 

Veronica stood, observing the inventory of weapons that the women had gathered in the Serpents’ absence. Toni had somehow managed to stay behind and was now fingering the handle of a fully loaded handgun she had retrieved from her bedroom. 

“I’m positive, Veronica. I know Jughead means well, but I’m tired of waiting for this to go down. My sister is in the other room, sleeping off the hurt he caused her, and I want Blossom to pay for what he did.” 

Veronica nodded. “Okay, B. Like I told you before, I’ve got your back. I said I would help you and that hasn’t changed. What do you want us to do?” 

Betty gestured to the collection of weapons. “We need to gather all we’ve got and put it in the back seat. Toni can take her bike to make room for the guns in your car, Veronica. I’m not sure how long the guys will be gone so we need to get out of here soon. Are you all positive that you want to do this? You can back out now and I won’t be pissed.” 

Toni, Cheryl, and Veronica all shook their heads, the former choosing to speak for the group. “We’re all in this with you, Betty. We’re not backing out now.” 

“Okay,” Betty said firmly. “Let’s get ready.” 

Behind her, Betty felt the gentle grip of her mother’s hand on her shoulder. She turned around to face Alice who appeared somber. “I’m worried about you baby, and I question your judgment a bit, but I just want you to know how proud I am of you. You’ve grown so much since you left here and you came back for your family. You’re so strong.” Alice reached up to tuck a strand of Betty’s hair behind her ear. “I just want you to be safe. I’m going to give you a head start, Betty –“

“Mom,” Betty began to object, but Alice cut her off. 

“No, I’m not going to send you off without back-up. Jughead would have my head and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. But you’re stubborn like me and when you have a plan in your head, you won’t rest until it’s set in motion. So I’m giving you a 30 minute head start before I call Jughead. Do what you will with that start and be smart, Elizabeth. Please.” 

Betty sighed, but knew in her heart that her mother was right. This was the compromise Betty was willing to make – both sides involved with a delayed start on the Serpents’ end. “Thank you, mom. I promise I will try to stay safe. We all will.” 

Alice kissed her on the forehead and stepped back. Betty surveyed the girls with their weapons and felt the determination rise in her spirit. 

“Let’s go kick some ass, ladies.” 

///////

**Scene Four**

The sky was sunny, though gloom hung in the air with the promise of rain as gray clouds were spotted just north of the lot. Veronica’s car pulled into the wide dirt plat, barreling over a curb with haste. Before them loomed the headquarters of the Ghoulies, a warehouse covered in shiny new tin with windows spread sparingly across the front. The car swerved past a tall pole that stood like a beacon in the middle of the lot, crested with a spinning sign that hosted a laughing grim reaper with the word “SCYTHE” written in all caps. 

There were two cars parked in a row along the front, accompanied by five motorcycles. Betty recognized the one closest to the door as the one Jason had been riding – black with the ugliest looking skull painted on the front. 

Veronica reached down and yanked the emergency brake, throwing the car into a near spiral before it came to an immediate stop. Betty reached down into bag at the base of her feet and dug inside for the gun. When her fingers brushed against the cold steel of the handle, she wrapped her palms around it, only slightly concerned that they weren’t clammy from nerves. 

Heading into imminent danger shouldn’t be so calming. 

Veronica yanked open the driver’s side door, throwing her cowboy boot covered feet out from the floorboard, making a hard crunching sound as she stomped down on the gritty brown gravel of the dirt lot. She surveyed the warehouse in front of them, hovering ahead like a great tin beast, its insides filled with unsuspecting Ghoulies who she knew deserved a swift dose of karma. 

Behind her, the sound of Toni’s motorcycle coming to a halt sparked her into action, leaning over the console of the car to unlock the glove compartment, pulling back when she retrieved the pistol Sweet Pea had given her days ago. Filled with fresh bullets, the weight of the weapon was surprisingly light in her hands. Making sure the safety was on, she tucked the shaft of the gun into the back of her denim shorts, concealed by the thin fabric of her low-cut army green tank top. 

She knew Sweet Pea would be pissed at her, but she wouldn’t be the woman she knew he loved if she didn’t take action for the people that mattered to her. 

The motor of the bike cut off at the turn of Toni’s key and she yanked the front of the bike to the side with a firm grip of the handlebars. She could feel the release of Cheryl’s hands from her waist, the pressure of the bike against the dirt lessen as the redhead dismounted, swinging her pale, white leg over the thick leather of the bike seat. 

Cheryl removed her white-rimmed sunglasses, tucking the shades inside the tight back pocket of her white skinny jeans. She had been here several times before, the late night hang-outs around the pool tables at the Scythe almost a distant memory now, though she could still smell the cheap liquor soaked into the felt. She could still hear the gross lullaby of whiney grunge rock pouring from the speakers of the bar, permeating the space like a depressing anthem. She could still feel the rough hands of the drunk men that she would walk by, gripping her ass without invitation as her brother just watched from afar, disgust for her written all over his face. 

Cheryl thought hard about how this moment had been coming to them for a long time now, and she felt a shiver travel deliciously up her spine. 

Toni looked up at Cheryl, watching as the pain twisted across her delicate features turned into one of dangerous delight. She pulled at her wrist, bringing her closer as she still straddled the seat of the bike. Cheryl tilted over the handlebars and received the kiss Toni wanted to give, planting a firm press of lip against ruby lip. When they parted, Toni swept a single stroke of her tongue over Cheryl’s bottom lip and she whispered, “It’s time for your payback, baby.” 

Betty surveyed the women around her, prepping for war, all geared up to take down the despicable man and his minions who had hurt her sister and threatened the life of her sister’s child still within her womb. In just a month’s time, Betty had formed a solid bond with the women of the Whyte Wyrm, something she never would have envisioned when she first pulled up in the parking lot after her painful hiatus. She had repaired the wounds she had caused with Jughead and had found her way back into his heart, a feat that seemed almost as terrifying as what loomed ahead. Betty knew this might cause a rift between them, but she felt confident he would forgive her. He understood the value in killing for the people you loved. 

She checked the bullet count in her own pistol, wrapping both hands around the black, nonslip grip of the gun. Betty considered maybe she really was a Serpent after all. 

“Let’s do this, ladies.” 

The three formed a formation behind her, Toni coming around in front of Betty momentarily to kick down the cheap pliable metal of the bar door. Once the door was swinging open, Betty moved forward, the gun trapped between her two palms. She surveyed the bar, saw two men exchanging playing cards at a table in the far right corner and a bartender cleaning glasses behind the long wooden bar. 

“Get the fuck down!” Toni yelled behind her. The three men collectively dropped the items in their hands and slid down to the floor, their mouths gaping with surprise. Cheryl clued it on the bartender and cried out, warning him as he attempted to reach for what she suspected was a gun from under the bar. 

“You want to have a dick in the morning? Come around the bar and get down on the ground before I shoot it off.” 

The man, grungy, bald, and heavily tattooed, begrudgingly crept from behind the bar, his hands elevated above his head. He slunk to the ground, his eyes angry and mean as they bore into Cheryl’s. She smirked, not thrown in the slightest. 

“Good boy.” 

“Now tell us where Blossom is.” Betty’s eyes darted about from each man to the next, commanding them to speak. 

They were all silent and Veronica was becoming impatient. She pointed her gun at one of the men huddled under the card table. “Did you hear her? Speak now before I put this bullet straight through your skull.” 

“Fucking slut, we ain’t telling you shit. I’m not afraid of you!” The man beside her target was getting ballsy, laying his palms on the ground to push up off the ground, challenging her. “You don’t have the nuts, bitch.” 

Toni swung her pistol in his direction and shot, hitting him square in the middle of the head. “I do.” 

Betty flinched instinctually, but she took a deep breath. This is what they came to do. She knew storming into this bar would have consequences. 

“Thanks T,” Veronica smiled appreciatively. 

“No problem, Ron. No one calls my women sluts without getting a hot drop of lead right between the eyes.” She turned to Betty, her voice firm and instructional. “He deserved it.” 

She nodded and remembered their objective. It was time to act. 

Shouts were coming from their left and Betty turned to see four other men walk out from a back hall into the main room of the bar. Immediately, they reached for the guns holstered to their sides. Cheryl, a little overexcited, shot off her gun, the bullet chipping off a piece of the wooden paneling close to the men, enough to have them ducking. 

“Cunts can’t even aim!” one of the men shouted, spitting at the ground. They stood frozen with their guns firm in their extended arms, four barrels pointing at the women ominously. 

“You want to fucking find out, white trash?” Toni cocked her gun by pulling back the slide, ready to shoot. 

They seemed to recognize her, though she wasn’t hard to miss – the only female Serpent to have been given a cut in any motorcycle gang within the surrounding 20 counties. Betty was pleased to see her reputation had preceded her, watching as the men exchanged glances laced with what she detected as fear. Toni just smirked, pleased with their reaction. 

It was a stare down, a gun fight frozen with the only movement being the up and down of each person’s chest, respirations shallow from adrenaline. Finally, one of the men, the one Betty recognized as Malachi, his hair spiraled up in a thick mop of black hair and his torso cloaked in a black studded leather jacket, stepped forward, his mouth curled up in a wicked smile. He lowered his gun, bending his elbows out and lowering to set the weapon on the ground. 

“You bitches want to fight? Why don’t you be a man, Toni, and come fight me with fists? I know you’re not so good without a gun in your hand.” 

Toni eyed him carefully, hesitant to drop her arms. There was no trust among rivals, no honor among criminals. “This the only way you think you can win, Malachi? Beating a woman?” 

“Come on, sweet cheeks, we both know you’ve got more dick than half the men you ride with. Put those hands to work. Maybe when they’re done and beaten raw, I’ll use mine on Red there.” He nodded toward Cheryl and Toni knew he was trying to bait her. 

She grunted and smirked. “I know my girl. She’d blow your dick off before you even got close.” 

The corner of his lip turned up, his voice dropping low as his eyes looked Cheryl up and down. “I bet she would.” Toni started to feel the blood boil up through her insides. 

“You forget, Cheryl’s one of ours. And we’ve already had her. Then tossed her out like the trash that she is, used up and soiled.” He licked his lips, tracing his tongue over his open mouth in an obvious and lewd manner. “I’ll still never forget that delicious sweet pussy though. Like honey.” And he puckered his lips and blew her a kiss. 

Toni growled, her teeth beginning to bare in rage. “Liar! She came to me because you slapped her around like the piece of shit you are and I’ll never let you touch her again.” 

“Then come fight me, bitch. Make good on your promise.” 

Toni began to lower her gun, but Cheryl interrupted. “Toni, don’t do it. This dick’s not worth it.” 

Toni was too wound up to refuse, however, and she reached out, holding her gun out for Cheryl to take. “Here. Shoot him in the cock if he gets me on the ground.” 

Toni stepped out from her position, seeing red as she stalked toward the middle of the bar, Malachi matching her pace for pace. The pounding of her heart beat like a war drum in her head, rage circulating through her like white hot fire. When they met in the middle, his fist bunching to attack, Toni was too quick and grabbed the lapel of his jacket, her fist colliding against his face with an audible crack. 

Then there was chaos. The two went at it, fists flying, grunting and groaning, surrounded by gunfire all around them. One of the Ghoulies took the fight as an opportunity to aim at Veronica and shoot, but she had dodged just in time. She lifted her gun up and took a shot, remembering to exhale slowly as she pulled the trigger like Sweet Pea had instructed. The bullet landed near the outer edge of the man’s arm, but it was enough damage to send him falling to the ground, gripping his arm in agony. 

Cheryl took a shot at a third man, but she missed again, the bullet glancing off a set of chairs in the corner of the room just past where he stood. He was quick, his gun swiveling back in her direction to take a shot. The bullet grazed her bare arm and she whipped around in shock and pain, crying out. 

Veronica, her opponent now writhing in pain on the ground, took a shot, hitting the Ghoulie that attacked Cheryl in the gut. There was a spurt of blood and a loud grunt as he toppled over, his gun flying out of his hand as he leaned over a chair, grabbing at his wounded stomach. 

The fourth man, who had flanked Malachi’s left, had taken aim at Betty, but her quick reflexes had her dodging to the right out of the bullet’s path. She extended out her hand with the gun, swiftly taking aim and shooting him in the chest, just below his collarbone. Though injured, he continued to fire, blood beginning to ooze out of the bullet wound like viscous black goo. Betty had barely missed his second bullet, ducking beneath one of the tables for shelter. She took aim from this angle, hitting him directly in a kneecap, and he came tumbling down. 

In the middle of the room, Malachi and Toni continued to rage, their fists connecting with flesh and bone. Toni was bleeding from the mouth, her teeth covered in bright red saliva. Malachi had a deep cut just above his eyebrow and it was seeping, a dark droplet coursing down the side of his face. Toni landed another punch directly in his stomach and he bent over, trying to catch his breath, but not before his fist curled up, delivering an uppercut just below her chin. She went flying back, stumbling backward and falling into a table. She tried to regain her balance, but Malachi had caught up to her, shoving her back onto the hard tile of the floor. 

He had her pinned to the ground, his knees straddling her hips as his fists rained down on her face. Toni struggled underneath him, but he overpowered her. By the third blow, however, there was a loud crack and he slumped to the floor, his eyes wide with shock. Toni looked up through the blood in her eyes to see Cheryl standing above them, the barrel of her gun aiming where Malachi had been. Her hand was shaking but her eyes looked sure. 

Justice had been served. 

“Baby,” Toni whispered, spitting out blood from her mouth. Cheryl leaned down to plant a kiss on her lips, her cherry red lipstick mixing with the red of Toni’s blood – a near unholy union filled with nothing but love. 

Once Toni got to her feet, her hands clutching her ribs as she winced, the women surveyed the damage. All four men were on the floor in some form, whether it be dead or injured. The old bartender and two card players were still glued to the floor, shell-shocked by the violent display that had just taken place. 

Betty gestured to the middle of the bar with her gun. “You three, get over here. And don’t even try to get cute. Now you know we’re not fucking around.” 

The three men crawled to where she directed, their hands staying low to the floor. Veronica walked around and kicked any nearby dropped weapons out of their reach. Betty pointed her gun at one of the men. 

“Now tell me where Jason Blossom is. I know he’s here. His bike’s out in the front.” 

The men were more willing this time around, pointing toward the back hallway. “His office is back there.” 

Veronica turned to Betty. “We’ve got this out here. You go take care of what you need to do.” 

Betty nodded and rushed toward the hallway. Once she got to the entrance, she crept around the corner, doing her best to keep her movements silent and slow. When she got to the door at the end of the hall, the only one closed, she slithered along the wall and settled herself beside the knob. She took a deep inhale in. 

_This is for Polly, Betty. This is for family._

She gripped the knob and turned, thrusting her body into the room with her arms held out, gun ready. When she looked around, the room was empty save for a metal desk covered in papers and old cigarettes snuffed out in a large crystal ashtray. There was one cigarette still burning, though, its fumes drifting toward the ceiling, and she got a nasty feeling in her gut. 

Suddenly, she felt a sharp tap across the side of her head and she dropped her gun. A hand came up to wrap around her cheek, covering her mouth as she tried to release a scream. 

“Now, now, Betty – that’s not a good idea.” 

The soft menacing voice of Jason Blossom crawled into her ear like a worm, and she closed her eyes, true fear beginning to spread through her body. 

“You thought you could show up at my front door and start a ruckus? Not smart, Cooper. I thought you had better sense than that.” 

_You showed up at mine first. You hurt my sister. You gave me reason to come after you, you son of a bitch._

But she couldn’t say a damn word, her voice muffled by the tough skin of Jason’s palm. She felt the hard grip of his left arm against her chest, pinning her back flush against him. He had a pistol in his hand, the steel cold against her skin. She could feel a hard bulge in his pants and she felt like vomiting. 

“You know, now that I have you here, I wonder what it would be like to have both Cooper girls. I wonder if your cunt gets as wet as your sister’s.” His left hand slithered down past the hem of her shirt, dipping beneath to brush the cold barrel of the gun against her breast, its caress cruel and frightening. 

Suddenly, she could hear the sound of several loud voices, yelling out expletives, and a single voice calling her name. _Jughead._

Betty felt tears begin to well up in her eyes. He was here and soon he would figure out where she was. Jason seemed to come to the same conclusion and shuffled her to the other corner of the room. 

“I’m going to take my hand off of your mouth. You fucking make a sound and there will be a bullet in your head before you even hit the ground. You understand?” 

Betty nodded, terrified. She released his grip on her, shoving her across the room as he grabbed a thick lounge chair and tried to angle it underneath the door knob, trapping them inside with no exit. His gun was aimed at her the entire time, his eyes glued to her like a hawk. 

“Don’t you like this privacy, baby? Now we can have some fun without your boyfriend ruining the mood.” He stalked toward her again, his gun still outstretched as he moved to restrain her again, but she was too quick. She grabbed the crystal ashtray off of the desk and slammed it into his temple. His body made a sickening thud as it hit the ground. 

“Jughead!” she shouted. “Back here!” She stayed locked onto Jason, watching him for any movement. 

She knew she could finish him off now. He would be an easy target, lying on his back like a half-dead bug. Without thinking, she leaned down and picked up his gun, her knees once more extending as she stood back up and pointed the barrel down at his body. 

Jughead shoved his body against the door in the hallway, his shoulder coming into contact with the thick piece of wood. Fear filled his entire system, the thought of Betty trapped behind that barrier with Jason Blossom flooding his mind with images that made him want to blow the entire building down. 

“Betty,” he cried out, his voice shaking. “Betty, I’m coming for you baby.” 

He shoved against the door twice more before finally shoving it open and the chair behind it aside. He was surprised at what he saw, the limp body of Jason Blossom spread out like a worthless lump on the ground, Betty standing above him with the gun aimed directly at his head. Her eyes were frozen, lost, and his insides clenched in horror. 

“Betty,” Jughead muttered softly, calmly. “Baby, give me the gun. He’s unconscious.” He made a move to grab the gun but she budged, her shoulder turning away from his hand. 

“No, Jug.” Her voice was stern, almost unfamiliar, and oddly confident. Beneath her, Jason began to stir, his eyes opening as his face winced in pain. 

When he looked up, nearly blinded by the bright light of the office, and saw Betty standing above him with the weapon, he laughed menacingly. 

“Come on, Betty, do it. Just shoot me.” His dare was casual but his laugh was nothing short of malicious. 

Jughead looked back and forth between Betty and Jason, terror bubbling in his gut. “Betty, come on, this isn’t you. He’s not worth it. This isn’t something you would do, baby. Please give me the gun.” 

Jughead was no stranger to the turmoil that came with your first kill. Something changed inside a person the moment that bullet left the chamber and buried itself within the body of another. He couldn’t bear to think of Betty wrestling with that kind of torture. He knew the guilt would eat her inside and out. 

But he watched as she grew more confident, her stature firm and tall, her grip on the gun calm and steady. Her eyes were focused, clear and unclouded. 

“I have to do this, Jug. He’s not a good man. He hurt Polly, hurt her baby, and he’ll just keep hurting people. He tried to hurt me but I won’t let him hurt me and mine anymore. This is me taking my life back, Jughead. All of the blood, all of the hate, it needs to stop. It started with my father and it’s going to end with me. You wanted me to be a Serpent? This is me owning it. You were right, it’s always been in me. This is who I am, really, Jug. This is who I’m meant to be.” 

Jason continued to laugh, his temple still bleeding from her blow. “You’re just as crazy as that bitch, Polly.” 

Betty’s eyes narrowed and she muttered like a mantra, speeding off her lips, “creation out of destruction, life out of death.” 

And then she shot him directly between the eyes. 

The lifeless body of Jason Blossom slumped inward, rivets of blood gurgling out of the fresh hole in his head, bits of spongy brain matter splattered over the side of the desk. 

Betty was still frozen to her spot but her hands were shaking. Her bottom lip began to quiver as if she were about to cry, but there were no sounds coming from her mouth. Jughead reached out to pull her into his arms, lowering her hand with the gun first, and he felt her crumple into him. Sobs began to escape past her lips and he smoothed the surface of her hair soothingly with his hand. 

“It’s okay, baby. It’s all over.” 

The sound of a creaking floorboard echoed through the hall, and in reflex Jughead threw up the hand with his pistol, taking quick aim at the source of the sound. 

“Careful, boy. You don’t want to be too rash now.” 

Clifford Blossom appeared, his flaming red hair framing his wrinkled face. The bags under his eyes were thick and heavy, but his eyes still looked lethal. He wore an expensive looking suit, the cuff folded neatly over his wrist, and in his extended hand was a shiny revolver. He stepped forward, a standoff between him and the Serpent Prince as both guns faced each other. 

“Where did you come from? You weren’t in the bar when my men got here.” 

“I was hiding in one of the open rooms. Your girlfriend didn’t seem too interested in looking in there when she traveled back here to find my son.” 

When Clifford finally reached the doorway, he looked down at the ground where he came across the dead body of his son, a lifeless heap that was beginning to turn pale and cold. His mouth formed into a hard line, his eyes filled with rage. He looked back up at Betty who had long ceased her sobs, her eyes now trained on the end of his gun. 

“Jason,” he whispered, his voice quivering just slightly. “My son is dead. You killed my boy.” His mouth turned from a hard line into a sneer. “All of you Coopers are trash. Your father was worthless, a shell of a man too spineless to follow through on a simple business transaction. He got what he deserved. You’ll get yours, too.” 

“Watch who you threaten, Blossom. You’re not the only one with your gun in someone’s face.” 

“You think I’m afraid of you, boy? You’re nothing but the scum on the bottom of my shoe – biker trash who’s been a thorn in my side for too long.” 

Behind Clifford came the click of a gun, locked and loaded. FP peered over Clifford’s shoulder, his eyes focused directly on his son’s. 

“Stand down, Jughead. I’ve got this.” 

“No, dad. It’s my responsibility to take care of this club. It’s my responsibility to take care of my family. I have to prove I’m ready, and looking at this piece of shit here – I’ve never been more so.” 

“No – this isn’t your responsibility yet. I’m still your President. Let me do this for you, Jug. Let this be my last duty as your leader. I’m so proud of you, boy. You’ve always been at my side, ready to take the helm. Let me do this for you. Let me make you proud. Let me take this burden away from you and I’ll lay my gun at your feet.” 

The two men exchanged an intense stare, the tether of blood and shared DNA allowing them to communicate. Together, they nodded. 

And in full circle, an endless, vicious, bloody cycle of violence and rivalry, FP pulled the trigger, his bullet whizzing through the air before meeting the back of Clifford’s head, effectively ending the life of the man who had begun decades worth of war between two area gangs. Bullets had built Blossom up in his empire and a single bullet had brought him crashing down, his body slumping to the floor over his son’s. 

After a beat, Betty inhaled sharply and felt her body give in to the weight of what had just happened. She felt Jughead’s arms wrap tightly around her protectively, cocooning her in the warmth of his embrace. He ran his hand up and down the back of her head and the length of her hair, whispering calming words to soothe her. He peered over her head at FP. 

“Thank you dad.” 

FP nodded. “You did good, son. Now take care of your girl. Let’s get back to the Wyrm.” 

When they stepped out of the hallway and back into the main bar of the Scythe, they assessed the damage that had been done. The dead Ghoulies from earlier still littered the floor, the addition of a few new bodies scattered about. While Betty and Jughead were tackling the Blossoms, an extra group of Ghoulies had joined in the attack. Just before the skirmish had ended and a ceasefire had been called, Sweet Pea had been stabbed in the leg, acquired from the knife of a Ghoulie who had gone after Veronica. 

Though he had a blade sticking out of his injured thigh, blood beginning to seep out of the cut into his jeans, it didn’t stop him from bringing his set of brass knuckles up to connect with the Ghoulie’s jaw, busting the bone out of the socket. When the Ghoulie had gone down, crumpling to the ground, Sweet Pea still stood proud, a scrap above his eye dripping with blood. He looked menacing and terrifying, his body seething with rage, but Veronica still found herself moved to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. 

In that moment, she knew he was the man she could lean on to give her heart to, the man she could depend on to call her out on her shit and still throw punches on her behalf at the end of the day. Feeling his lips pressed against hers, his heart beat erratically against her own, she knew she had found a piece of her heart in the chest of another. 

“I love you, John, you colossal asshat.” 

Sweet Pea grimaced in pain, but did his best to hold her close to him. Looking into her big brown eyes, he saw the comfort she provided, the fierce maternal attitude she possessed that could whip his ass in line. He found in her the missing piece left behind by the absence of his mother, the only other person who had gotten him to open up his heart. 

“I love you, Veronica. You’re a thorn in my side and if I could get down on one knee right now, I’d ask you to be the biggest pain in my ass for the rest of my life.” He pressed another firm kiss on her mouth, his overwhelming need to be with her overcoming the pain radiating from the wound in his thigh. 

She tipped her head back, cupping his face with her palm. “Sweet Pea, are you asking me to marry you?” 

“Damn right,” he muttered, his voice deep and throaty, his lips coming back down to crash into hers. 

Toni and Cheryl stood huddled near the entrance, situated against a table as the redhead tended to Toni’s wounds. Sometime after the fight, Cheryl had found a clean rag and soaked it in cold water. 

“I still can’t believe you took on Malachi for me.” Cheryl dabbed the rag over a cut above Toni’s left eye. It had already begun to swell, but Toni couldn’t feel a thing, only able to focus on the gentle way Cheryl’s hands caressed her face. 

“I’d do anything for you,” she said simply. Cheryl slowly froze, the somber sound of Toni’s voice causing her to pause. “I never thought I’d meet anyone that could deal with me like you do. You’re so Goddamn beautiful, Cheryl. You scare the Hell out of me, but never once did you let my bullshit stand. You stood there and took my garbage and threw it right back without blinking. Before you, I could never imagine sticking around with anyone for longer than one night. And now, I couldn’t dream of being with anyone other than you.” She took a deep inhale. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I love you and I –“

Cheryl leaned forward and cut her off with a kiss, her heart beating so fast in her chest that she couldn’t stand not being attached to Toni at the mouth. 

“Toni, you let me come into your life, not knowing I was the type that would dig in and not let go. You tried to push me away, but I don’t think for one second you wanted me to go. I have faith in you. I have faith in us.” She kissed her again gently. “And you’re never getting rid of me, Toni Topaz.” 

The five leftover Ghoulies who had agreed to the ceasefire with the Serpents stood in a corner of the bar, surveying their dead and the damage left behind by the gun fight. They briefly conversed in whispers before falling silent. One of the men with hair long enough to reach his lower back stepped forward, his eyes locked on FP and Jughead. 

“Jones.” He held out a hand, a peace offering. “On behalf of the rest of the Ghoulies, we want to call an end to the blood war between us and the Serpents. For the past several decades, we’ve been doing the biding of Blossom and his son and we’re sick of it. You’ve done us a favor today, one we didn’t realize we needed. Carrying out hits and peddling hard drugs was never our choice. That was Blossom’s. Now that we don’t have any of this other bullshit to deal with, we can actually carry on with true club business. You have our gratitude and our peace, if you choose to have it.” 

FP looked down at the offered hand and considered before he took it with a firm shake. “Appreciate that, Raven. It’s time we all learn to take care of our own business, keep out from under the thumb of weaker men. Blossom deserved to die, and I’m glad he’s dead, for all of our sakes.” 

The man named Raven nodded and turned. “Head out, men!” he shouted and the remaining Ghoulies exited the bar. 

The Serpents followed not long after, Betty and Veronica riding behind them in Veronica’s convertible. Alice, Kevin, and Joaquin had all rushed out to greet them, first aid tools on deck, and everyone got patched up. The cut in Sweet Pea’s leg required a bit more attention, and Dr. Clayton was quick to come by and stitch him up. 

A few hours later, gathered in the main room of the bar, the gang feasted on a summer spread of various cold cuts and cheeses prepared by Alice and Kevin. The only exception was Toni, who held an ice bag to her swollen face, resuming her usual liquid dinner of whiskey on the rocks. Cheryl sat next to her, running her nails up and down Toni’s arm in a soothing manner. 

Sweet Pea was forced to sit up with his legs extended to allow the liquid stitches to set and Veronica was getting up every so often to fetch him more food, feeding him bits and pieces of meat and cracker. Betty smiled, knowing normally Sweet Pea would be furious at anyone trying to help him, much less hand feed him food. The look on both of their faces, though, proved they were anything but upset at the chance to be so close and Betty considered perhaps Sweet Pea liked Veronica taking care of him more than he would ever publicly let on. 

Even Kevin and Joaquin, who hadn’t been present for the violent showdown at the Scythe, found an excuse to revel in each other’s company and hold each other close. They sat huddled in a bar booth, Joaquin’s uninjured arm wrapped around Kevin’s shoulders, sharing a plate of veggies and a mixed drink. 

Betty watched as her mother, for the first time openly since Betty had arrived, curled up on FP’s lap, the perfect portrait of a king and queen on a leather-backed bar throne situated by one of the tables in the middle of the room. Her mother was smiling, laughing, and exchanging loving glances with FP, even reaching up to pick out crumbs from the scruff on his chin. Together, they glowed, and Betty felt a warmth spread through her chest. 

She felt the arm around her squeeze her side lightly. She turned her attention to Jughead beside her. 

“You okay?” 

She knew he had been worrying about her since they returned, prepared to reach out and take hold of her should she crumble. The scene at the Scythe had been intense, and though there was a part of Betty that felt numb, she couldn’t deny the overall sense of relief that she felt knowing it was all over. Polly was safe, tucked into the next booth with a smoothie and healthy baby in her womb. There was the promise of a secure Serpent future, absent of the bloodshed and the violence that came with gang rivalry. 

And as she sat there, nesting in the security of Jughead’s arms, surrounded by the people she loved, Betty realized she had the chance to do it all over again. She couldn’t erase the past ten years, but she could try to make the next ten matter. She could learn to push aside her fears, learn to embrace the life that came with the Serpents – the life she was destined for, evident since the day she had fled after her father’s death. 

Her life was becoming full circle. Her father had been avenged, the Ghoulie-Serpent rivalry had been vanquished, and Jughead could finally admit that beyond all else, beyond the pain and hurt and heartache, that he still cared for her – _that he still loved her._

And she loved him beyond measure. 

“I’m better than I’ve ever been. I’m home.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
>  
> 
> **Scene Four – In The Following Order:**
> 
>  
> 
> \--“Castle” by Halsey
> 
> \--“Control” by Halsey
> 
> \--“Born to Die” by Lana Del Ray 
> 
> \--“Affection” by Cigarettes After Sex 
> 
> \--“Heathens” by Twenty-One Pilots 
> 
> \--“My Blood” by Ellie Goulding


	6. TIE ME DOWN (SIX MONTHS LATER)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a harrowing act of gang violence claimed the life of her father, a young Betty Cooper found herself being whisked away with her mother and sister to the one place they could find shelter – the Southside part of the city under the watchful eye of the biker collective known as The Serpents. Betty and the Serpent Prince, Jughead, grew to become friends and eventual lovers before a traumatic event triggers Betty to flee for her sanity, leaving behind a distraught and heartbroken Jughead. Years have passed and the fragile life of her sister, Polly, and her involvement with the Serpents’ rival, the Ghoulies, has Betty returning to the den of snakes she once ran from.
> 
> However, the Serpent Prince may not be so forgiving and his welcome upon her arrival is purely cold-blooded. Like the revered Ouroboros, life is a continuous renewal of “what was” in anticipation of “what is,” and as clear as the tattoo on every Serpent’s skin, the motto at the Whyte Wyrm is “creation through destruction.” Betty may soon learn that snakes don’t shed their skins easily, especially when love can be sharp and venomous. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are -- the final act of "Ouroboros." This fic was an incredibly experience for me to write. I challenged myself to write for multiple couples while focusing on one central pair, to write F/F and M/M smut and romantic scenes, and introduce violence -- all three things I've never written before. I am so blessed at the reception this fic has gotten. It's been a true labor of love sometimes, and to be honest, I almost didn't release it, but I'm so glad I did. Thank you for taking this journey with me. Love to you all (and Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!)
> 
> This chapter is smaller, a coda of sorts, but I thought it was a nice end to a wild ride. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> By the way -- if you loved SweetVee as much as I did, please look for the upcoming release to their focused fic called "No Angel." There will be teasers and sneak peeks on my tumblr (elegantmoonchild) so please look for more info! I'm so thrilled to bring you this incredibly sexy, incredibly tumultuous story about a pairing I created that I never knew I needed until now. Thanks for all of the love and support and warm welcome to the fandom universe.
> 
> I do not own the rights to the Archie Comics or Riverdale, and the content of this story is strictly from my own imagination.

As Betty stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the thick braid that draped over her collarbone, she took stock on all of the changes that had happened in a mere six months. 

After the Serpents and the Ghoulies called off their rivalry, there was some semblance of harmony in the Southside. There were still business conflicts between the two gangs, but for the most part they managed to work out their territories peacefully with little bloodshed. They sold their product on different parts of town and stayed out of each other’s way. 

Polly had her baby, a boy named Gene, who was thankfully blessed with a majority of her features. Polly managed to find a place outside of the club, still in the Southside, and finally decided to go back to school through an online course. Betty and Alice had both volunteered to watch the baby during her class time, both eager to spend time with the newest little Cooper. 

Betty had decided to stay in the Southside as well, her time in Albany now in the rearview mirror. Through the experience of avenging her sister and rekindling the flame with Jughead, she had come to realize the Southside and the Serpents truly were her home and family, and she belonged there with them at the Whyte Wyrm. 

Alice was still resigned to living at the Wyrm as well, her relationship with FP no longer a secret. Now that he was retired, his time better spent on repairing bikes instead of busting bones, he felt more comfortable having the Cooper matriarch attached to him in public, her safety no longer an issue now that Clifford Blossom was eradicated. Apparently, Betty’s mother and the Serpent king had been romantically involved during her mother’s teenage years, serious enough for her to have the words “Ride or Die” with a serpent tattooed on her shoulder, but they broke apart only when Hal came into the picture and promised Alice a better life away from the Southside. Though Betty knew Alice didn’t regret her life with Hal, the product of which were her two wonderful daughters, there was a part of Alice that could admit was a little disappointed that her time with FP had been divided so early in life. They were now doing their best to amend that gap, even planning a trip down to Florida the following summer. 

Luckily, Alice and FP had spent their adult years maintaining a strong friendship, the foundation of which blossomed into a mature romance that Betty and Jughead could aspire to. There was no awkwardness about their parents’ involvement – the hint of which had been in the air before Gladys had taken off and left FP behind. Betty was truly just happy to see her mother so effervescent and joyful again. 

Alice was currently flitting around the room, inspecting each of the girls’ dresses, making sure the hem lines matched and there were no offensive wrinkles. Out from behind a thin fabric curtain, Veronica stepped into the main part of the back room of the Whyte Wyrm. She stood in front of the provided full-body mirror, gawking at the beautiful silky flow of the white dress she wore. 

Betty came up behind her, tears welling up in her eyes. She placed a gentle hand on Veronica’s bare shoulder. “You look stunning, V.” 

In the mirror, their eyes met. “Do you think he’ll like it?” 

“How could he not? Veronica, he’s going to collapse when he sees you.” 

Veronica fingered the fresh tattoo of a sweet pea flower on her right forearm, a show of her love and affection for her fiancé and her respect for the memory of his departed mother – the woman he claimed that she reminded him of with her raven-colored hair, quick temper, and sweet disposition. 

In just minutes, she would be passing through the threshold of singledom into married life with a man that both infuriated her and filled her with the overwhelming warmth of love. The night of the Ghoulie takedown, when Sweet Pea had broken down and told her he loved her had felt like pulling teeth, but the gloriousness of the moment was worth every struggle – and the tears he shed that night while he held her close made her see just how much she impacted his life. And in a way, he had changed her for the better, his continual pushing of her buttons teaching her patience and humility. 

Cheryl stepped up beside them, applying another layer of red lipstick over her thick lips. She popped them together and stood back to take in Veronica’s glamorous portrait of a bride. 

“V, you look amazing. Sweet Pea’s going to get such a stiffy when he sees you in that thing.” 

The women chuckled and Veronica shook her head. “You have no shame, Cheryl. And there’s no upstaging me today, you hear? These are my last few minutes of being an excusable Bridezilla so just let me enjoy them.” 

“Who are we kidding, you’re always going to be a Bridezilla.” Kevin stepped into the mirror behind the girls, standing a full head taller than them. “But you look amazing, Veronica.” 

“Thank you, Kevin.” She turned to take in his appearance, the well-cut brown suit crisp like a new bill. “You look rather dapper yourself.” 

“And you thought Cheryl was your only competition. They’re going to be so hypnotized by my ass in this suit, they won’t even notice how much you’ll be crying when we walk down that aisle.” 

“That reminds me,” Alice muttered behind them. “I bought a bunch of small Kleenex pouches the other day. Betty, babe, will you run out into the bar and grab them for me? They should be in a little brown sack behind the bar.” 

Betty stepped out of the back room, careful not to open the door too wide to keep Veronica’s dress hidden. When she crossed the hallway into the main room, she could see the men lined up, fixing the pink flower pinned to the front of their suit jackets. Jughead’s eyes found hers and they grew wide. 

“Baby, you look beautiful.” He followed her behind the bar, placing his hand on the soft part of her ass as she bent down to retrieve the sack of tissues. 

“Hands off, Romeo,” she swatted at his hand. “I just came out to get supplies. You boys look nice.” She reached up and kissed him lightly on his cheek, careful not to get lipstick on his face. 

“Can you believe they’re really going through with this? I never thought I’d see the day where Sweet Pea would willingly chain himself to a single woman for eternity.” 

Betty grinned. “Me neither. To be honest, I thought they would fizzle out after a week. Shows just what we know.” 

Jughead looked into her eyes and smiled. “I think we know quite a lot now.” He pressed a small kiss on the corner of her lips. “Now go get our girl ready before I take you somewhere dark and dirty up that bridesmaid dress.” 

He growled as she bit her lip before blowing him a kiss, practically skipping back to the back room with the bag of Kleenex pouches. 

Minutes later, Betty and Cheryl were lined up in front of Veronica, who stood arm-in-arm with Kevin. When it was their cue, the girls traveled down the homemade aisle built and decorated by FP and Alice respectively. Each girl held a bouquet of sweet peas and carnations, pink and white and beautiful. The doors and windows were shut, protection against the winter air outdoors, but there was enough light from the overhead structures that had been crafted by a company in the city, ordered by Veronica months ago when they first got engaged. Jughead and Toni wore suits and stood behind an anxious looking Sweet Pea, who was busy bouncing on the soles of his feet as he waited for Veronica to appear. 

When it was finally her turn to strut down the decorated path, Joaquin began to strum a wedding hymn on his acoustic guitar, perched on a stool behind Toni. When he and Kevin locked eyes, Joaquin winked and blew him a hands-free kiss. 

Emboldened by their reunion, Joaquin had decided to also take his relationship with Kevin public, no longer worried about keeping his sexuality hidden from the town. They were moving quick, already looking at homes near the edge of the Southside, but the mess between them had been easy to sift through and organize. Their relationship was healthy and now filled with endless tender touches and laughter. 

When Cheryl reached the front pew and crossed to take her place behind Betty, the maid of honor, she shot Toni a glance. The sight of her in the suit was a turn on, Cheryl’s tongue tracing the line of her bottom lip. Toni’s eyebrows wiggled as she mouthed “I love you” across the space between them meant for the bride and groom. 

FP, Alice, and Polly sat in the front row, baby Gene cooing softly in the baby sling. The rest of the audience was filled with some of Veronica’s old friends from college and Sweet Pea’s remaining family members on Tall Boy’s side. 

When Veronica had appeared at the entrance of the aisle, Sweet Pea froze in his spot, his eyes glued on the breathtaking beauty before him, striding toward him in a form-fitting white gown that ended just below the knee, billowing out as she moved. Her veil was birdcage and elegant, a vintage look to go with her classic facial features, but through the netting he could see her lips spread wide in a huge smile. 

Tears had slipped down her cheeks and she was incredibly grateful for waterproof makeup, the sight of Sweet Pea in his suit, transfixed by her in her wedding gown, too much for her to handle. When she and Kevin stopped at the end of the aisle, Sweet Pea stepped forward and took her hand in his. 

Betty watched beside Veronica as the couple exchanged loving looks and vows, her eyes darting to the best man behind Sweet Pea. Jughead looked so handsome in his suit, his typically unruly black hair slicked back and tame. His blue eyes shone with love, his joy for his friend as evident as the grin on his face. When his eyes found Betty, his blue on her glistening green, the love glowed even brighter. 

As Veronica and Sweet Pea kissed, a symbol of their new unity as man and wife, the crowd cheered, the hoots from the Serpents nearly drowning out the rest. The reception was held in the same room as the ceremony – the main room of the Whyte Wyrm – which had transitioned into a party space thanks to the quick hands of FP, Joaquin, and Tall Boy. Guests tossed back shots and munched on various appetizers, all cooked by Alice and the Wyrm’s designated cooks. 

Just before midnight, Veronica and Sweet Pea came together to share the last slow dance of the night, their lips nearly glued to each other as they swayed in harmony to the music. Sometime during the reception, Sweet Pea had removed his suit jacket and button-down shirt, leaving behind a thin white tank top that revealed the top of his newest tattoo – a set of pearls wrapped around the handle of a gun with the moniker “My Angel” above it for his wife, a marriage of her sophistication with his life in the Serpents. 

The next morning, the newly minted couple took off for their honeymoon, riding off on Sweet Pea’s bike toward the city. Betty never thought she’d see Veronica compromise for less than car service when it came to vacation, but it just proved how willing a person is to bend when it came to matters of the heart. 

Jughead and Betty saw them off, watching as they rode down the access road and onto the highway into their future. Jughead slung an arm around Betty’s shoulders and he leaned in to plant a kiss on her cheek. 

“Go for a ride with me? I did something a little special to our tree that I want to show you.” 

Betty crossed her arms over her chest as she shivered from the cold winter air. “Okay, but I need to grab a coat first. Sure you don’t want to take the truck?” 

Jughead shook his head. “No. I think it makes it more special that we take the bike.” 

A short ride later, Betty had to give him credit as he kneeled before the tree with their carved names, now decked out in shiny baubles and streamers for the Christmas time – everything had come full circle. From the bikes to the bar, the Serpents to the tree marked with the symbol of their young love, the death of Clifford Blossom, her father’s murderer, to the birth of her new nephew Gene – Betty and Jughead were there through it all, still standing together and still in love. 

Jughead pulled out a tiny box that held an antique diamond ring, its band an authentic rose gold with a single stone sparkling with the snow around them, and cleared his throat against the bitter wind. 

“Elizabeth Cooper, love of my life, queen of my heart, _Mo Chuisle,_ would you be my wife? Marry me and grow old with me? Ride with me until we die through this wild life we’ve started together?” 

Betty felt warm tears spill from her eyes as she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips. “Of course, Jughead Jones. My life, my king, my pulse – I am yours and you are mine. Forever” 

He swiftly picked her up, her breath caught in her throat, and he swung her around in the snow as he laughed happily. For once, life had never felt more sure. 

The past had been put to bed, the future was promising and bright, but the present was the most glorious – a marriage of the old with the new, a resurrection of what was with what will be, wrapped in a thick blanket of love that cloaked them both like a new skin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songs**
> 
> \--“Radio” by Lana Del Ray


End file.
